The Fire Waltz
by Rogue Fifty-Two
Summary: This is the story of Robin Kennedy, who tried and failed to save a world that was not his own. A semi-realistic self-aware OC character is pulled from our world into the Harry Potter books, but finds that the longer he spends there, things are not what they seem, and every action has a consequence. Elements are incorporated from Stephen King's novels and Twin Peaks.
1. Welcome to 1990

**The Fire Waltz**

 **Chapter One: Welcome to 1990**

 _There are many stories in the wizarding world. Some of them are good. Some of them bad. Some of them even funny. This is not one of those stories. This is the story about the people that inhabited it and the struggles that they faced. This is the story of one particular person. Robin Kennedy. This is the story of how he failed to save the world._

From the moment I opened my eyes I knew I was in a body that was not my own. It felt too small, the proportions not right, even the eyes were different. It was a jarring sensation that felt like a bad dream, as I was starring up at a bunk-bed that was very clearly not there before. I was pretty sure my bed was a single, and I was dead certain one thing my bed was not was surrounded by two other bunk beds, packed in close together like sardines in favour of getting as many people in as possible. "Okay," I said aloud to nobody in particular, "What the hell?"

"Bad dreams?" A woman with an afro-style haircut approached me from the stairs, someone who seemed to know me but I had no idea who she was. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, and was exhausted, but given the amount of people who were under what was presumably her roof judging by the amount of beds in just this one room, it was easy to see why. "I know settling into an orphanage can be difficult for some people, especially when the memories of what happened are still recent. But don't worry, Robin, we're going to do our best for you. You just have to trust us. When you're ready, breakfast is downstairs, but don't take too long. You know that Michael always wants to eat food that's left behind…"

Except I didn't. The news that I was apparently in an orphanage was a shock to me. I was sixteen, and up until today it seemed, I lived in a North London apartment block in the Islington area, and both my parents were alive, thank you very much. My name was also _not_ Robin. It was Aaron. Aaron Hughes. So why the name change? Had I body swapped with someone? Had I done what by all rights should be impossible? I ran to the nearest mirror to confirm, which thankfully, wasn't far – there was a bathroom just down the hall, past another room, which again, was empty. The mirror confirmed what I already knew – my entire appearance had changed. Brown hair was replaced by blonde. Height and weight had both been lost, and I was a scrawny, blonde-haired pre-teen. My eyes were blue, rather than brown. I wasn't even a teenager. I was eleven years old.

I pinched myself, and then followed it up with a punch, just to be sure. But I wasn't dreaming. I didn't jump up in bed, the floor didn't fall in on me, this was very much a real experience. And a real, traumatising experience. A call greeted me from downstairs, and it was the same as before, "Robin! Breakfast is ready. I don't want to have to call you again!"

I decided that if I was in this orphanage for more than two minutes, it would be better to not disappoint my new carer. So, I quickly made sure to change out of my – Robin's - pyjamas – seriously, what the hell kind of a name was Robin? I pitied the kid; his parents must have been Robin Hood fans. That must have been the only explanation for a name like that. Nobody in their right mind would call someone Robin. I made my way down after I'd got changed, opting for a non-branded red t-shirt and blue jeans, and found myself greeted with my new housemates, the orphanage kids, a cluster of orphans who were all keen to meet the new guy.

The Orphanage itself was like a large house, several rooms built on top of each other with no care for style. The kitchen and dining room was combined into one, and there were several layers of tables for the kids to sit at. I had to stop myself from going to hang out with the older sixteen-year-old kids, I wasn't sixteen anymore and judging by the looks of things it was weird for people to hang out with either those who were of the different age, or the different gender. So, I sought out a pair of eleven-year-old boys, one with red hair and the other with black hair and a dark skin. "Can I sit here?" I asked timidly, testing out the new voice that was not my own. It sounded lighter, which was no surprise, puberty hadn't broken yet. I'd hoped I wouldn't stick around in my body long enough to live that after only now reaching the other end.

The Red-Head shrugged and then paid no further attention me, and the Black Haired one was too occupied with a toy car to respond. I decided that it would be a good time to continue with my food as I sensed that a food fight was brewing in between a couple of younger kids, but what caught my attention was a dark-skinned girl who addressed me directly. Her name, I would later find out, was Naomi. "Hey, did you dye your hair last night? It looks different."

I had no idea of knowing what my hair looked like last night. The Red-Head spoke up net, "Yeah, I could have sworn your hair was brown last night. You are the new kids, right?"

"If by that you mean I'm new. Then yes."

"Then what did you do with your hair?"

"Dunno," I said with a shrug – as honestly as I could, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation when they realised that I wasn't going to give them much more. I'd let them develop their own theories in private. I was still in so much thought, still getting used to the idea of bodyswapping being possible. I wanted to ask what year this was just to confirm that it was still 2018, but that would only make things more awkward so once I finished breakfast I went back into the living room which I had passed through on the way in to find out that the television was on and the news, and to my horror, I realised just _how_ big I'd screwed up, how _big_ fate had decided to screw me.

I was in 1990. I was not just stuck a few years in the past. I was stuck 28 years in the past. 28 years. There wasn't even an internet yet. That was how far I had gone back. Hell, Margaret-freaking-Thatcher was still the Prime Minister, although mercifully, I would only have to tolerate a few more months of her rule until her resignation in November before John Major would come into power, a man who I didn't know that much about politics-wise. It wasn't my area of speciality. It was such a culture shock to me, who had been born in 2002 and had, no – was - coming of age during the 2010s, during the era of internet, Snapchat, Facebook and Twitter, that to come back to an age like this, even one only 28 years ago – reminded me just how far we'd come since, and how jarring it would be to transition to a world where knowledge was not available at the tip of your fingertips.

I relied on Google for pretty much every answer to every question. If I wanted to know a maths question that I couldn't answer, I'd Google it. If I wanted to know how to fix something, I'd Google it. The only thing that I didn't need Google for was the French language, which was something that I had carried over from my French mother. One of the benefits of having a multi-cultural parentage allowed me to ace Foreign Languages at school, and I was pretty much the person who people came to for to help with their homework. I hoped the same knowledge would come in useful here, in Robin's memory.

"Change the channel!" protested a bumbly kid rather bluntly, who I assumed to be Michael judging by the way he had come in with an extra cereal bar in hand. He was fourteen, and whacked the TV remote out of my hand like it was nothing and changed it to BBC One, and _Muppet Babies_ was on television, not paying attention to brief flicker in the screen followed by the mysterious Red Walled Room that was evidently a background in another television show, before the brief flicker of energy died again. Seriously, this kid was fourteen and he was watching _Muppet Babies_? It showed the power that Michael must have had that he was not jeered at by other kids his age, and nobody demanded that the channel be changed. It helped that the younger audience must be enjoying it too, as there were a few who still had to eat breakfast in highchairs. It was a crowded place, and the sofas were full within seconds.

I wondered what my options were in this new world. What school did I go to? Were my parents alive or dead? The Carer didn't sound too optimistic about my chances, but then again, this was an orphanage. Nobody was optimistic about any of our chances. I decided to investigate something, going off a hunch, I went upstairs and checked underneath the bed to find a safe with the name marked _ROBIN KENNEDY_ on it in capital letters, bold print. I searched in the nearby drawer, again with Robin's name on it, and withdrew a key around a necklace, and unlocked it, and found a wad of ten-pound notes inside tied up together. Robin's final cash reserve?

I took some notes plus a couple of pound coins, and made my way out of the door before they could notice me. I had to make sure, I had to check something. I knew there was televised evidence for me being here in 1990, but I had to see it in person, I had to confirm it. There was one way that I knew how. I caught the bus to Islington.

Being on the bus and seeing signs of shops that no longer existed and hadn't for years was a surreal feeling. Woolworths stores were present, and I almost felt like getting off to go to one of them. But assuming this body was now a permanent fixture for me, I could go to all the Woolworths I wanted to. The bus took me to Islington, right past Highbury Stadium, perhaps the biggest confirmation yet that I was in the past by the fact that it was still brand new. The new season hadn't quite yet started, and I made a mental note to go to as many games as possible. I'd have to find a job first, but that could wait for another few years. There weren't many places that employed eleven-year olds even in 1990.

Music was playing from a loud beatbox to the left of me, someone who had keyed up cassettes to a Sony Walkman, a hangover from the 1980s, and even from a distance it was clear to tell that it was Prince's _Thieves in the Temple._ Of course, the music genius was still alive, along with Bowie and several others, in 1990. From where the bus stopped it was clear that as I glanced on in the distance my apartment and block of flats that I called my home was not there.

It felt odd, like the final confirmation that I needed. I don't know why I went, out of semantics, maybe? Thankfully, even in the 1990s, parents didn't pay that much attention to where kids went in the school holidays so I wasn't on the receiving end from some questions asking me where my parents were, and the bus fee for kids was cheaper than it was for adults. The bus looped past Islington and I stayed on it for what felt like an eternity, sat there in the seat, deliberating my new reality. I could potentially make a fortune in betting and insider knowledge, but that wouldn't be until I was old enough to bet. So 18. That would luckily come before the triple header of Brexit/Trump/Leicester winning the league, so if I put my money down on all 3 I would be rolling it in. Of course, the future was flexible and I liked to think that the reason that I was being sent back in time was to stop Brexit and Trump, but as an eleven-year-old orphan in North London I wasn't really in much of a position of power to do so, especially not when these events were 28 years in the future and might not happen at all.

I looked in the mirror, and my hair had changed again. _What the hell?_ It wasn't blonde, it was now a dark, auburn red. I made sure to get off the back door at the bus so the driver wouldn't notice me, eternally thankful for the fact that it was a double decker, and I was wondering what happened to me. Was I some kind of mutant? An X-Man? Was my power changing hair colour? It was a rather lame power. But the news didn't give any indication that mutants existed, and if it did, I imagined it would be front page news all the time, given how much stuff happened in the comic books. So no. I was not an X-Man.

What was I? I brainstormed in my head. More importantly, who was I? What kind of kid was Robin Kennedy?

I didn't even notice that I was back at the Orphanage until I opened the door at around lunchtime, to find a letter waiting for me on the doorstep, at the top of the pile of a bunch of others.

 _ROBIN KENNEDY._

 _THE FOURTH BED FROM THE LEFT, BOTTOM BUNK_

 _ROOM 3, "THE CAVALIAR ROOM"_

 _SMALL-HEATH ORPHANAGE_

 _THACKERY ROAD_

 _UPTON PARK_

 _E6 3BW_

And at the bottom was a seal that I instantly recognised as being Hogwarts' logo.

Shit.

Shit.

Double shit.

How was that even possible? Hogwarts wasn't even real? It made sense, it explained the whole hair-change thing. Apparently, people who were magical would experience certain quirks before, and frequent hair change was one of them. It had wierded me out – it would weird anyone out – and at least I now had an official explanation for this. But the explanation in its own was as weird as hell – I had somehow travelled to a different universe where the Harry Potter books were real, which begged the question, why? Was fate being nice to me for a change and giving me a chance that everyone could only dream of? Or was it something more sinister?

I remembered Harry Potter didn't start Hogwarts until 1991, so I had a full year before he joined if I wanted to go, and you can bet you any money that I wanted to go. Who wouldn't? I opened the letter and took it all in, still not quite believing it.

I was going to Hogwarts. With a capital H.


	2. The Death of Hank Mallory

**The Fire Waltz**

 **Chapter Two: The Death of Hank Mallory**

 **I.**

Hank Mallory breathed a sigh of relief as he returned home from Hogwarts after a year of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. The old man made a risky career move changing positions from Arithmancy to Defence, but he felt that yes, the time must have been right. After all these years of teaching mathematics and with Dumbledore desperate for another teacher after the last one drunk himself into a depression that meant he could not return, Mallory had seized the opportunity, provided that he got to keep the same classroom that he had held for twenty-two years. As a long serving professor, Dumbledore obliged his request, and as a result, Defence Against the Dark Arts moved classrooms for the first time in what felt like an age. Some older students called it a curse, a bad omen, but by and large, it was accepted by the third week.

Some even speculated that Mallory had changed it thinking that if there was a curse, it was a curse on the room that Defence Against the Dark Arts was taught in rather than the subject itself. One only had to look back at the position of teachers leaving to notice a distinct domino effect, some having met more disturbing ends than others.

It was of course, raining outside when Mallory returned home, and the fire was out. His wife had died a few years ago peacefully in her sleep, and the aged man had to adjust to a house that was much too large for him and him alone. He'd taken on a few dogs, some stray, some not, as well as a house elf to help with the day-to-day activities. He had named her August, for that was the month he had brought her in. "August? Are you there?" 

There was no familiar pop that greeted him, the sound of the loyal house elf welcoming him home from work with a cup of piping hot, pitch-black tea. And the more he listened and observed, the more he noticed that something was clearly wrong. There was no barking from the dogs, there wasn't even a sign of Lacy, the oldest, who always used to lounge around by the fireplace and leap up excitedly upon his return. The light around the fireplace was completely dimmed, and the only light aside from the fireplace that he was granted was natural, but that was slim due to how late in the day it was.

And that was when he heard it. Or rather, him. The voice. The drawl. He remembered it so well and clear, just as he had eleven years ago after the death of his wife. It hadn't changed with age. "You should have known this day would have come, Mr. Mallory. Or did you perhaps think that I forgot?"

He went for his wand, only to find out that it was not in his pocket. Had he forgotten it? Impossible. He was pretty sure he would have remembered to bring his _wand._ "I did what you asked," he said, his voice low and trembling. "Please. Everything is in place. I want to look after my dogs."

"Your dogs are dead. So is your Elf. Don't worry, they died peacefully. As will you. Don't pretend you didn't know that wasn't going to happen. Nobody can see who I am. It's too soon."

"But I've seen you."

"And that is why, my friend, you must die. But you will die knowing that your fate is for a better purpose, far greater than your own," said the man. His voice never lost that cool, stylised edge to it, despite having that twang that gave his accent away. "It's almost a pity. I would have liked you to see what is to come. One thing is certain. It is going to be Biblical. Tell me, Mr. Mallory, do you have children?"

Mallory got the feeling that the man knew the answer already, but was merely humouring him. "No. My wife couldn't. we tried. Multiple times. Her heart was broken thrice over."

"Consider yourself fortunate," said the man. "It is the children who will have to endure what is to come. I would love to elaborate further, but as much as I want to, I can't sit around and talk all day. I have other things to do. People to see. I'm a busy man, you know, Hank?"

He had used his first name for the first time. Hank was an odd name for a British person to have, it was usually favoured by Americans from his personal experience. It had been a choice from his father's, who had named him after an old friend who had met when he fought against Grindelwald with the American allies. There was a picture of both of them on the fireplace wall. Describing their first encounter had always been a favourite story that his father used to tell. Mallory paused for a moment, recovering a sense of his composure and dignity. He was a proud man, or at least, that was what he considered himself to be. "I'm ready," he said calmly, looking at where the man's head would have been were he visible.

"Good," said The Man. Mallory never learned his name, in all these years. He knew now was not the time to answer. But he knew the wizarding world should, by all rights, be terrified by what was to come. "Die well, Hank."

And then Hank Mallory knew no more.

 **II.**

Music. Blaring loudly. It was the morning after the letter from Hogwarts, which I'd done my best to keep secret from the rest of the orphanage knowing how much they'd ridicule me given how observant they were of everything going on around me. They'd spotted that my hair had changed before I did, for crying out loud. I made a mental note that if I was ever going to become a Consulting Detective, I would come back to the orphanage and hire these kids to become my own version of the Baker Street Irregulars. Which come to think of it, wouldn't be a bad idea to have anyway. I had survived secondary school, just about, and doing it the second time, even a magical one, would give me the advantage. I knew what kids were capable of.

But magical kids? That was a whole different story. There's a chance you had a bully at your school. If he wasn't bullying you he was bullying someone else. Now take a second to imagine that bully with magic. It's a disaster waiting to happen. I was surprised that Hogwarts never had any fatal accidents caused by unintentional manslaughter of a spell crafted that was above the cursor's level, but then again, there was a Hospital Wing dedicated to such incidents going remarkably south. What was the more pressing matter at the moment was the distinctively _loud_ music playing in my ear, evidently from someone's alarm clock and I remembered thinking angrily who the hell sets off their alarm clock in the middle of summer?

I wouldn't be up until 10 in the morning at the best of times, especially not to MC Hammer's _U Can't Touch This,_ which you have to remember, was still fresh at the time, having been released in January. One of the kids was mouthing along to the lyrics, and the others were already cheering him on – those that had raised from their slumber at least. I grumbled, "Shut up," but it came out weakly and was ignored. I had written to Hogwarts of course, I didn't want to subject the Orphanage to a barrage of angry owls – (they had been a bit persistent after all, what if Harry simply had decided to go to another school? What if he _wanted_ to go to a muggle school? I had read multiple AUs about that). But the barrage of angry owls was something that I wanted to avoid.

I hadn't told them about the future yet. There was no need to until I got to Hogwarts. Besides, it would be much better in person. It would also give me more time to adjust, nothing seriously happened until Halloween in Harry's first year if I remembered correctly, and that was next year, so that gave me plenty of time to adjust and prepare. Too much time, to my liking. I still had a GSCE exam, parents and a life to get back to.

Hopefully I would be headed home long before then. I thought about ways that could be accomplished. Sure, in fanfiction, there was a lot of stories about using the Veil as a way to get to other dimensions, mostly in crossover fanfiction, or as a way to the afterlife, but I wasn't brave enough to go venturing into what was essentially a doorway to what for all I knew, could be a black hole. It was a shame that Rowling never really clarified anything about the Veil the same way she had clarified about everything else since. Plus, there was that whole army of Unspeakable that I wasn't ready to go head to head with just yet. Sure, I knew the magic spells, but I didn't have any practice with them. It wasn't as simple as waving the wand in the general direction of the enemy and hoping for the best. Plus, becoming public enemy number one wasn't anything that I particularly had in mind.

The letter that I sent was a formal reply, and a request not for me to be met at the orphanage but instead, a few blocks away, I didn't want to startle anyone, I elaborated. I couldn't put down that I knew about magic as I wasn't supposed to know about magic before getting the letter, so I put down saying that the people I stayed with weren't too welcoming to adults that they didn't know. Better to be safe than sorry.

So, at 11am this morning I got a response in the post, saying that they would be happy to meet. Later that day, if possible. It was an official response and didn't tell me who I was going to meet, but I presumed it wouldn't be Hagrid. If so, who would come to meet me? I hoped it wouldn't determine what house I would end up in. I wasn't even sure what house I _wanted_ to end up in. Not Slytherin, I didn't fancy having to be involved in a political power play. And I didn't want to put up with the Weasley Twins on a near constant basis, so that ruled out Gryffindor. I wasn't smart enough to be in Ravenclaw, even with my foreknowledge, so that left… Hufflepuff?

I killed time by watching television. _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ was on repeat, so I watched a couple of episodes of that before heading out to my 2pm interview after a brisk lunch, which was a bus ride away. I was depleting into Robin's emergency funding by merely entertaining the possibility of a bus ride home, so if I wanted to explore London I either had to steal some portkeys, learn how to apparate way before I would legally be allowed to, or the easiest route, gain some money. The question still remained… _how_?

The Professor that greeted me was an unfamiliar, plump woman with grey hair, and she introduced herself before I worked out who she was. My mind wasn't an encyclopaedia. As much as I wanted to, I didn't have the memory to work out the names of _every_ Harry Potter character. She introduced herself as Charity Burbage, with a friendly welcoming face. "Hello, my dear," she said. "I would like to thank you for taking the time to write for yourself. I must say, you do have remarkably good handwriting for an eleven-year-old boy. Although I must ask a question, you don't seem to alarmed by the very fact that magic exists. Did you know of it before coming to Hogwarts?"

"Not this particular magic," I said, and seeing her confused look, I elaborated. "There are a lot of fantasy books that often have some form of magic. Like _Lord of the Rings,_ I assume this kind is different, though?" 

I also made a mental note to see if there were any Orcs or proper Elves in the Harry Potter world. There weren't ever in the books, but as the books focused squarely on magical Europe, especially on Britain, there was a whole unexplored universe out there. I mean, there were Dragons. Burbage returned her question. "Yes, Mr. Kennedy. Magic in the wizarding world is indeed, quite different. I assume you read the letter? You will be pleased to learn that the school will provide means of funding for orphans with magical abilities who don't come from an inheritance. It isn't much, sadly, but it would be a shame to let some untapped potential as yours go to waste. Would you care to take my hand?" 

"Where are we going?" I asked, sensing that this was some kind of apparition.

"Diagon Alley," said Burbage, and then rattled on, explaining the ins-and-outs of apparition and what Diagon Alley was for. It was tiresome given how much I knew about what was happening, but I couldn't tell her what I wanted to. It was rude, after all – she'd been preparing this speech, and you could tell that by how she delivered her lines, slowly and meticulously, I was one of her first students that she'd have given it to. I didn't want to make her first recruitment of a student be a bad memory.

I was feeling confident about that.

Right up until I touched her hand and saw how she would die.


	3. Down and Out in Diagon Alley

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Three: Down and Out in Diagon Alley**

 **I.**

"Are you alright, Mr. Kennedy? You look a little pale," said Charity Burbage once we landed outside the Leaky Cauldron. It took me a few moments to work out that the bar was actually there, but the more I squinted, the more it became clear. The dusty building.

I was pretty sure that predicting people's futures by touching their very hands was something that wasn't particularly common in the Harry Potter universe but I was drawing blanks as to where it could have come from if _not_ the Harry Potter universe? I kept bringing up the possibilities of X-Men, but the news hadn't mentioned anything to do with Marvel superheroes or even acknowledged the fact that anything abnormal existed, so that was pretty much ruled out from the get go. But either way, I didn't have much time to deliberate the death of Charity Burbage at the hands of Nagini when I arrived in Diagon Alley and it had the same magical feeling that it had in both the books and the movies. I'd walked through the Leaky Cauldron without much incident. "Now, normally, we would have to go to Gringotts," said Burbage. "But I took the liberty of creating your trust-fund. Due to the fact that it is owned by the school, you will not be able to legally access it until you come of age unless there are extreme circumstances, or if you wish to transfer out of school."

"How often do people transfer?" I asked.

"We have never had a transfer student," said Burbage, with a voice that sounded somewhat proud. "Once people go to their magical schools, it's for life. The same is for Hogwarts. We will only need to stop at a few shops today, unless you have anything that strikes your fancy."

What _didn't_ strike my fancy? I'd been once to the Harry Potter exhibition, but never to anywhere close to the real thing. It felt surreal walking into the Leaky Cauldron, my first actual encounter with the wizarding world beyond Burbage, the muggle studies professor. There was nothing that I wouldn't be bored by. But I had to remember that I wasn't Draco Malfoy, I wasn't Harry Potter – I wasn't even _Ron Weasley._ I was dirt-poor to the point where I was living pretty much off nothing but leftover savings from a body that wasn't my own. If I was feeling desperate around 2018 I could tap into my own funds – the funds of Aaron Hughes – after I vanished of course, but again – I hoped to be gone by then. I was thankful that I wouldn't be in the same year as the Potter crew, I didn't really want to pay that much attention to Voldemort or what was going on when I knew nothing in terms of magical ability. I would have a nice year of calm ahead of me, and maybe if I was lucky, another good second year before I had to start looking over my shoulder for a Basilisk.

A young girl with black hair being lead past me. "Mummy," she was saying to her parent. "Can I get a broomstick? I know we don't start Quidditch until second year, but I want to practice."

I ignored it. Or more accurately, I didn't have the chance to be dragged into a family squabble as I was led through by Burbage into the back door, where a few taps on specific bricks later, and _whabam!_ I was in. The bricks folded apart and went back to one of the most beautiful sights I had seen in a long time. Nothing could top this. The authentic smell, seeing people walking around in their every-day costumes, almost made me feel out of place as the one standing in a simple muggle t-shirt and jeans.

"This way, please," said Burbage. "Be careful not get lost. It can get particularly busy at this time of year. Lots of people queuing up for School Supplies."

I noticed how young the number of people around me were, but before I could do anything, Burbage led me into Ollivander's. It would make sense of course, for her to have already withdrawn my funds prior to my arrival. The Old Man gazed down at me, and said, "Ah, welcome, Professor Burbage. I must congratulate you on your new position. I always thought you'd go on to do great things. 9 inches, vine, unicorn hair? Very precise."

Burbage nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Ollivander."

"Now let's see. What do we have here."

"This is a young Robin Kennedy," said Burbage. "He is a new student at Hogwarts. An orphan.

"Oh my. I'm so sorry," said Ollivander. "Such a tragic thing for a child to grow up without his parents. You must miss them deeply."

"They died shortly after I was born, Professor," I said, not knowing if that was the whole truth. "I never met them. Properly, I mean."

Ollivander looked genuinely sorry, and I felt bad for lying. But what was I supposed to do? Tell him the truth. I made sure not to touch anyone after Burbage's incident just in case the same thing happened again, seeing her eaten by Nagini was horrifying enough and I didn't want to say, touch someone who was tortured to death in an equally gruesome fashion. Ollivander survived the war, if I remembered correctly, thanks to Harry Potter freeing him from the Malfoy's, but I didn't want to find out how _everybody_ died. I had to tread carefully. I still didn't know how this unfamiliar power worked.

Ollivander looked at me, deliberating for a second before eventually settling on a wand. "Eleven inches. Dragon heartstring. Rigid. Try this."

I did, but before I could finish the hand-wave, he had taken it off me and replaced it with another, that resembled a small, wooden rapier. "Ash. Unicorn hair. Extremely flexible," he said, before adding, "Nine inches."

Bright light flashed, indicating that the wand had chosen his owner. I remembered that Harry Potter's seemed to take a long time and I was glad mine didn't. I didn't want to be spending all day and I was already sniffing with the amount of dust that was present. Luckily, I was quickly led out by Burbage after she withdrew my money to pay the man, but then we were lost in the crowd. It was a simple thing. A large group had just walked past, and Burbage found herself wandering down the alley. And that was when I saw it, an older teen, burly and mean-faced, approaching a much younger one, knocking him down.

It was a rather bold approach considering how many people were in Diagon Alley at the moment, but nobody seemed to care, which was odd. The teen lashed out at the boy, who must have been my age or younger, and I did the only thing that could be right. I stepped in, and sensed my chances at being sorted into Gryffindor growing by the minute. "Hey."

"What do you think you're doing, mudblood?" the Blood Purist instantly made his beliefs known. He was well-built, muscular, and I realised just how big of a mistake I'd made. His had large teeth and shifty grey eyes, and couldn't have looked more like a walking example of a cliché bully if I was asked to write what a description of one was. I dared to glance around for Burbage, making the mistake of taking my eye off the Slytherin – and make no mistake, he was a Slytherin – the green coloured clothing and insignia, bearing house colours even out of school, gave it away.

"Just trying to help," I said rather sheepishly. I made a mental note to practice my one-liner delivery to bad-guys if I was to become the Nathan Drake of the wizarding world. I tried to dodge a punch – he couldn't use a wand, he wasn't quite of age yet – and avoided one but was struck by the second, a punch to the gut, followed by one to the nose. Only now were people paying attention, a few cries of alarm.

The boy then decided that it would be a good time to leave, as I was left behind kneeled over on the floor. It took a few full minutes or me to be oared any kind of help whatsoever, as people had caught on that I was a muggle-born, and didn't want to anything to do with me with so many Death Eater sympathisers watching. I was an eleven-year-old kid – for christ's stake – or more accurately I was a sixteen-year-old kid in an eleven-year-old kid's body – but that was beside the point. "Hey," said a voice from behind me, and I turned around to an outstretched hand. "You need a hand?"

The kid who had been on the verge of being beaten up by the Slytherin had gone. "Thanks," I said, accepting the offer kindly. The boy who had picked me up was dark-skinned, black-haired and all-too cheerful. "You a first year?"

"Yeah."

"They always go after those. There's too many ex-Death Eaters here for them to get caught. Aurors won't do anything about it. Hell, half of them are probably ex-Death Eaters themselves."

I grimaced at the thought, not bothering to ask what Death Eaters were. I didn't need to know. "Unfortunately," he added, "You'll be seeing a lot more of him at Hogwarts. He's Marcus Flint. Youngest Quidditch Captain for Slytherin in half a century. Complete bastard."

So _that_ was Flint? He did look familiar, but he was one of those people who the movies never bothered to flesh out enough so I never got a good visual look, even after seeing them multiple times. Oddly enough, I didn't find a vision about what happened to this guy greeting me. I didn't know his name, so he must have been one of the characters that simply never got named in Rowling's books. The every-day folks that weren't important enough to Harry Potter for their story to be told. It was refreshing to meet someone who I didn't know how he was going to die. But also, a lot more worrying. I could control some people's fate. I couldn't control his. "I'm Ethan," he said, "Ethan Melville."

"Robin Kennedy," I said, taking a while to deliberate how my name sounded off the tongue, because apparently, people introduced each other by their first names. "Good to meet you."

"And you. I'm a Hufflepuff, by the way, in case you were worried about my reputation," he said. "We don't really have any to lose. As far as they're concerned, we're dead to them already. I could be the staunchest believer in pureblood supremacy and it wouldn't make a difference to them because of house colours. I'm not, by the way."

"Not what?"

"A pureblood supremist," he said, glancing over to Burbage, who approached them both. He glanced up at her. "That your handler?"

"Yeah."

"Must be a new teacher. I don't recognise her," said Ethan, and began to walk away. He looked back at me and said, "Word of advice. Don't be a Gryffindor. You won't survive here for very long."

"I might take you up on that," I said, wiping the blood from my nose. Burbage looked worried.

"Ah, there you are Robin, goodness gracious me, what on Earth happened to your nose? You weren't hurt, were you?"

I was bleeding, woman. What do you think happened to me? Was what I wanted to retort, but I didn't want to bring up any further alarm especially as Flint was now long gone, and now so had Ethan. I dismissed it. "Oh, it's nothing. Just a nosebleed."

It was a poor excuse that she didn't buy, but alternatively didn't follow anything up, probably realising that I wasn't going to give her a direct answer. I could find a way on how to deal with Flint at Hogwarts, and was thankful that he couldn't get away with using magic as he was still too young to escape detection from the trace. Punching was apparently fine though, so who knew with magic?

I had just received a rude awakening to the wizarding world. Just because I had foreknowledge of the future didn't mean I was the best equipped to deal with what life had thrown at me. But on the plus side, I thought as I began to walk away with Burbage, that maybe, just maybe, I'd made a new friend?

 **II.**

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore looked across the table at Minerva McGonagall, and sighed. It had been a long day, and they were no closer to finding new defence against the dark arts teachers. "What about this one?" McGonagall said, pondering over a list of selections. "I know our options are rather slim at this point, Headmaster, and I know Severus will be annoyed if he is passed over again, but he fits the profile. Well-educated, with a decent background…"

"However I sense that you are not completely happy with the choice," said Dumbledore, after pondering over the suggestion, observing the files that had been provided.

"He has never attended Hogwarts as a student before," said McGonagall. "And there is another important element that we ought to take into consideration. Remember the explosion of the Overlook Hotel in Colorado, America in nineteen-eighty? It was covered quite a bit even in the magical papers over here. There were rumours of magical involvement after all."

"How could I ever forget," Dumbledore said, with a sense of remorse in his eyes as though there was something he could have done. "Such a tragic incident."

"That was reportedly the cause of his cousin," said McGonagall. "According to reports he suffered an emotional breakdown during a long period of isolation and was driven insane."

"Well, it is a good thing that insanity isn't a trait that runs in the family," said Dumbledore, deliberating this after a while. "I'm sure Mr. Torrance will do perfectly fine here. After all, there are numerous precautions in place and Hogwarts is hardly ever empty at the winter. I believe he will have no problem adjusting to life here given the similarities that we share with Illvermory."

"It will require me to go abroad a few days before the start of term," said McGonagall. "I hope you don't mind."

Dumbledore's response might as well have been a direct confirmation that in fact, he did not mind at all. "I do hope you enjoy your time in Castle Rock, Minerva."


	4. The Dwarf and the Giant

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Four: The Dwarf and the Giant**

 **I.**

"I know you're living with muggles in an orphanage in a shared room," said Burbage as we sat down in the Leaky Cauldron for some evening tea. Some music, a live band, magical of course, was playing something that sounded vaguely like dream-pop in the background against Red Curtains. It was entrancing in its sound, and I had to stop myself from being drawn to the music. This hadn't been in the books, and I wondered if it had either been because Harry had never gone to the Leaky Cauldron during open mic night, or whether it was because this was the last year that they were airing. "So, I decided to give you this, it was left behind in lost property at the end of last year, I can't believe nobody claimed such a valuable device," she said. "It's a trunk. Portable, and flexible. From the outside it will look like any normal muggle suitcase. But on the inside can store all your magical items."

"Bigger on the inside than on the outside," I said. I too, had seen _Doctor Who._ We had completed all our shopping for the day, Burbage had recommended against buying too many books – the library had multiple copies of what was on the reading list for most subjects and all I had to do was make sure I actually went to it and asked the librarian nicely.

In the distance, through the dimly lit bar, I saw a Dwarf. The small man was clad in a suit and approached me out of the blue, as Burbage seemingly was none the wiser. He gestured for me to lower myself to his level, and said, in a slow, disorientating voice, "I'm so sorry for your loss," and then, without further ado, like nothing was amiss, walked away, leaving me nothing but dumbstruck. What loss? What had I _just_ lost? I hadn't lost anything aside from my old life – did the Dwarf know that I'd lost my old life? Or was there something more, something worse – just around the corner?

I was distracted by my thoughts from Burbage who had just finished her meal, not paying attention to the Dwarf at all to the point where I wondered whether or not it was nothing more than an illusion. "Right," she said, climbing to her feet, having already paid Tom the bill when she received her food. "I had best be going. And so had you. Wouldn't want to keep you from your orphanage too long."

 **II.**

The Remainder of the Summer passed like a breeze and it wasn't too long before I found myself on Kings Cross Station. It didn't take me long to find 9 3/4s- I'd been to the real-life location of the platform before of course, and I pushed my trunk in. I didn't have enough funds to bring a pet, I reasoned that nobody would need to be writing to me and the orphanage were more than happy to see me gone. I did my best to adequately prepare, so by the time I found myself queuing at the station for the train, I felt oddly confident.

"Hey, my man!" Ethan greeted me, coming through the barrier from just behind. "I thought I saw you entering the station."

"Ethan, right?" I said. He smiled. 

"If I were you I'd get on pretty quickly," said Ethan. "Best seats'll be taken quickly otherwise."

I did as he instructed, and it wasn't long before I found a seat. Ethan had again disappeared, and I was alone, although not for long, a shy, athletic first year with brown hair found herself nervously angling her way into my compartment. "Hi, is it alright if I sit here? It's just, I don't know many people."

"Sure. I don't either," I said. "Robin."

"Katie," she returned the gesture, and noticed the old _Unknown Pleasures_ T-Shirt I was wearing that had been a parting gift from the Orphanage – a new set of clothes, albeit second hand ones, as I wouldn't be there for my birthday. They hadn't known whether or not I liked Joy Division. "It's so exciting isn't it? Actually, being able to go to Hogwarts. I wasn't sure whether or not I was going to get the letter, and then, there it was. My mum was so excited she woke the whole family up."

"So what house do you reckon you'll be in?" I asked.

"Gryffindor," she said proudly. "Everyone in my family who's went to Hogwarts has been. What about you?"

"I have no idea," I said, honestly. I was leaning towards Hufflepuff but that had merely been an honest assessment of myself rather than a personal choice. I had produced a Tennis ball from my hand and was bouncing it across the table. Katie eyed it with confusion.

"What's that?"

"It's a Tennis Ball. Muggle sport," I clarified, seeing her confused reaction. I threw the ball to her, and she caught it.

"What do you do with it?"

"You have a racket, and you hit it back and forth across the court," I said. "Until someone misses it. But I don't play it much. I mainly keep the ball for something to play with when I'm bored." 

Katie threw it back, and I caught it with one hand, as the train started moving. "Just wait until you see a game of Quidditch. You're going to have your mind blown. It's like, the best sport ever. I was almost tempted to go to Illvermory once I found out they let first years on their school teams. Having to wait until second year sucks."

I threw the ball up in the air and caught it again. That comment I was expecting from a first year student. "Also," she added, "Did you hear that the last Defence professor just committed suicide? It was all over the news. I couldn't believe it, my brother said he seemed like such a nice, friendly man."

That comment however, I decidedly wasn't. "Oh? No, I didn't."

"Yeah," said Katie. "Apparently they've got some American from Illvermory in at the last minute. It's really sad what happened to him. My brother can't believe it."

"Some say he offed himself because of how bad last year's crop of students were," said a voice from behind. Ethan was back. "Which I personally take offense to that. It was the Slytherins. They engaged in a targeted harassment campaign after he docked the too many points. It's their fault."

"People couldn't do that just because someone lost them points, right?" I asked.

"Slytherins could. They're mean bastards," said Ethan. "Especially that lot. Flint especially, he's the ringleader. According to the Weasleys he was even questioned by the Aurors. Oh, there's another pair you should watch out for by the way. The Weasley Twins. Don't get on their bad side. See, here's the thing about Gryffindor and Slytherin. Everyone thinks that Gryffindor is all good and Slytherin is all bad, but that's just not the case. There are some good guys in Slytherin. Some bad in Gryffindor. All I'm saying is, be careful who you make friends with."

Ethan's speech was not unlike the one that Draco Malfoy made to Harry in his first year. But then he added, "Hey, do you either of play chess? I've been looking for someone to find a game with." 

"Occasionally," I said, knowing that I never played that much. So, it was no surprise when I was beaten. But what was more interesting than the game, which was decidedly one-sided, was Ethan's speech, clarifying to Katie about what the rules were as she didn't play.

Katie asked halfway through, causing Ethan to laugh. "Why are you playing chess on a chequers board?"

"What's chequers?" said Ethan with a confused laugh.

"It's a muggle game. Played on the same board," Katie said, and then elaborated. "My cousin is a squib. He introduced it to us. The pieces don't move."

"Well chess is more complex. Infinitely," said Ethan. "What do you think the smartest piece on the board is?"

"The King."

"Sure, you lose the King and you lose the game," said Ethan. "But you're wrong. It's the Queen. She can move anywhere in any direction on the board as long as it's in a straight line. Back and forth. She's smart. See how Robin moved his Queen out early? Big mistake, because I can just do this… and he's just lost his most powerful piece. Now he's going to be on the defensive for the rest of the game."

"Kind of like if Dumbledore died, there'd be panic everywhere," Katie suggested.

"I wouldn't have put it as bluntly as that, but yeah," said Ethan. "Now the castle, the piece that I just took Robin's Queen with - I don't need to tell you the metaphor for that. We're going to one."

"Hogwarts."

"The Castle is the second most valuable player in the game," said Ethan. "Not counting for the King of course. It can move in any direction and protect anyone in front of him horizontally or vertically. It's a great defence mechanism."

"So, I get it. As long as Dumbledore's in Hogwarts," said Katie, "We're safe."

"Essentially. Although as far as I'm concerned, whatever we do, it doesn't matter. Because we're the pawns," said Ethan, sitting back. "The pawns in this great game. The only way out for us is through, because if we make it to the other end, we get to be the Queen."

"So we get to be Dumbledore?" said Katie, and everyone laughed at that.

"Are you pulling that chess trick again, Ethan?" A girl asked from behind him, giving him a disapproving look. "Stop frightening the first years. It wasn't clever when you tried to pull it on me, either."

"Angelica," said Ethan with a sigh. "I was just getting to the _good_ part. I haven't even started to scare them yet and then you come along and ruin all the fun."

"Come on," said Angelica – a character from the books? (She was the Gryffindor Chaser, wasn't she?) pulling him away. "We're setting up the Quidditch betting pool for the year. Charlie suggested that we do some kind of fantasy Quidditch game for the respective Houses. Makes the betting system more fun."

"Yeah, I'm down for that. What about you guys?" Ethan said.

"You play Quidditch? Count me in," said Katie, climbing to her feet.

"Sure, I play Quidditch. Gryffindor Chaser," said Angelica. "What position do you play?"

"Chaser. But I'm a first year."

"We might need a new one next year," said Angelica, smiling at Katie. "Tell you what, if you get sorted into Gryffindor and do well, then you've got a spot on the team."

"Looks like I know what house I'm going to be sorted in."

"Recruiting people this early, Angelica? There should be a law against that," said Ethan, and then turned to me. "What about you?"

"I'm good, thanks," I said. I had no interest in discussing Quidditch. It was one of the things that didn't really appeal to me, especially given that I was afraid of heights. I should have mentioned that before now, but it didn't seem relevant – so discussing about a sport that I had no interest in seemed pretty worthless to me at least.

"See you at Hogwarts, then," said Ethan, waving goodbye. Katie did too – did I just witness how Katie Bell and Angelica Johnson became friends? I wasn't sure, there weren't many Katies at Hogwarts and given that she was a year older than Harry Potter, it made sense. I also realised I'd just lost her to Gryffindor. Not that it mattered though, if I had my way, the antiquated house system would have been torn down by the end of my first year.

I dozed off as rain began to pour down, signifying that the further north we travelled, the damper it was. And then, I had a dream that felt more real than ever before. I was walking on hot coal, and my feet hurt like never before. Classical music, opera was playing in the background. To my untrained ears I couldn't tell whether it was Mozart or Wagner. Or hell, it could have been Vivaldi. Around me the walls were painted blood-stained red. At the end of what seemed like an eternity of dancing on hot coal, with the music slowly transitioning to a steady jazz beat as I went, there was a table with a tall giant already sat down at the other end. Not knowing what to do, I sat down opposite him.

He handed me a thick book, and I opened it to find the pages empty, replaced with only one word, Redrum, written over and over again as I flicked through the pages, slowly, and then faster as they went on. Redrum. Redrum. **Redrum**. Switch the words around, and it meant _Murder._ And then the Giant pointed at the open pages and the text with his index finger, before slowly raising it in my direction, jabbing it at me with all the subtly of a blunt knife.

By the time the train pulled to a halt and I awoke, I could not remember the dream at all. And I never got to hear the end of Ethan's chess speech.

 **END.**

 _Author's Note: Ethan's chess sequence was inspired by The Wire's famous chess speech. And if there is fantasy football, why can't there be fantasy quidditch?_


	5. Gotta Light?

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Five: Gotta Light?**

 **I.**

The Boat ride over to Hogwarts was just as magical as it appeared. I found myself sitting with Katie and a bunch of other first years, with Hagrid at the head of the pack. He led us up to Professor McGonagall, who promptly walked us through the gate and into the Great Hall, where we were met with eyes from so many faces it felt unnerving. I noticed some instantly, standing out in the crowd, the Weasley Twins, and there, at the table, I noticed Professor Burbage, seated along with the likes of Severus Snape, Albus Dumbledore and the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I wondered briefly what would happen to ensure that he wouldn't see out the year. He looked old, with eyes that betrayed years full of regret. What sins was he hiding?

The Sorting ceremony began in earnest. I paid attention to the hat's song, it sang about red and white, divisions between friends and foe and allies bringing us together when we needed them most. It wasn't before long that we were lined up in tow. Thankfully, the sorting happened rather quickly. I caught a few names and got confirmation that Katie was indeed Katie Bell when she was called forth and sorted into Gryffindor, running happily off to join Angelica who was seated by someone who was presumably, Alicia. Marcus Belby was fairly early on and his name sounded familiar but I couldn't recall where from (maybe sixth year?), and Cho Chang followed suit – I instantly knew where she was from, and wasn't surprised to see her sorted into Ravenclaw. And then it was my turn, and the hat said down on my head.

"Well, well, well," it said. "What do we have here?"

"You know who I am?"

"I know your mind is not the bodies. But the parts of that mind are not clear to me," said The Hat. "Tell me. Does your mind wish to bring harm to the people of Hogwarts?"

"No."

"Good. Because had you, I would have alerted Dumbledore before I even sat on your head," The Hat said. "I envy you in a way. A second chance at life is not something may get. Use it well. Now, let's get on with it. I see you have made a self-assessment of yourself and have concluded you are a Hufflepuff already, no? You shouldn't be so quick to judge. Standing up to Marcus Flint in Diagon Alley? Inhabiting an eleven-year-old body? That's a pure Gryffindor move. But your mind cares for others, I can tell. And would think first before putting them in danger. You have an argument for both houses. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. You could do great things in both."

"I don't see much point in letting what House I am in define me."

"Then you assume you do not care which House I put you in," said The Hat.

"I would rather avoid Gryffindor. Too much drama for my liking."

"In that case it feels only right to put you in Hufflepuff, doesn't it?" said The Hat, and then said, "Very well then… HUFFLEPUFF."

Over at the Slytherin table, I noticed Flint roll his eyes.

 **II.**

The announcement of the New Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher followed suit. His name was Henry Torrance, a tall man who looked as though he had 20 years on 80's Jack Nicholson. The man smiled warmly at the crowd when he was introduced. There was a special mention of the previous Defence teacher and how he must be remembered for the good things he has done and not the way his life ended, but when all I knew about him was that he committed suicide, it's hard to judge a person by their actions in life when all you knew was their death.

Cedric Diggory was the first person to greet me, the way he had styled his brown hair made him look like someone who wanted to be a model when he was older. I could see why so many girls were drawn to him. He was everything I wasn't, suave, good-looking and a natural born leader with charisma. If the Harry Potter series were entitled The Adventures of Cedric Diggory instead and set after Hogwarts, you got the feeling that Tom Cruise might be the one to play him in a film. "Welcome to Hufflepuff," he said warmly. "I'm Cedric Diggory. Feel free to make yourself at home."

"Good to meet you," I said, helping myself to some food. It had everything that I could have imagined and I was absolutely starving, so naturally, I rapidly tucked in. Ethan was sat at the other end of the table from me, I noticed, roughly in correlation to where Angelica was sitting, so I had to make friends with others in my year and one of them was Alfie Snyder, who had been one of the last few people to be sorted into Hufflepuff.

"So you're muggleborn, then?" Alfie asked, and then elaborated, "Your surname doesn't sound familiar. Sounds American."

"Kennedy? Yeah, there was President," I said. "But I'm British. From London."

"What football team do you support?" Alfie asked. "My Dad's a muggle, he's a massive Geordie."

"Arsenal," I said. It might not be the team that Robin supported but it was the team I supported. "Islington born and bred."

"Mate. _Arsenal_? What are you doing?" Alfie said with a snicker. "You finished behind Spurs. In _Fourth._ _Fourth._ "

Great. Even though I'd ended up in 1990, it was good to know that the Arsenal fourth-place meme had never gone away. George Graham was the manager now, wasn't he? You knew you'd travelled back in time a long way when Arsène Wenger wasn't even the manager of Arsenal yet.

"So, what do we think of the new Defence teacher?" A third year whose name I didn't know said. "What did they say his name was? Torrance?"

"Like the family at the Overlook Hotel," pointed out one of the kids. "Reckon he could be a relative? I heard about that. It was nasty." 

"What Overlook Hotel?" I asked, the name sounding familiar but I couldn't quite place it for some reason. It felt like a fog had clouded over my memory, like it was something I should remember but couldn't.

"You haven't heard? The incident was famous. Apparently, some writer went mad when he was isolated over winter in the Hotel and tried to kill his family. Almost did, too. Everyone thinks it's the Imperius Curse, but that place was burnt to the ground. I think that even if I was under the imperious Curse, I wouldn't want to do that much damage."

"You can't fight off the Imperius Curse," said Alfie. "It's impossible. They could get you doing anything you wanted to. It's scary. I never want to be cursed by it. But I reckon the same thing's going to happen here, like what happened in the Overlook. He's going to go mad. It's only a matter of time."

"It was only the family who stayed over Christmas, wasn't it?" I asked, catching on quickly. "There's going to be loads of people staying over at Hogwarts. And plus, if it was the Imperius curse, that means he's going to be fine. I don't think he'll go mad. He seems normal. My money's on one of you lot breaking him so he quits."

"One of _you_ lot?" Alfie said. "You do realise we're Hufflepuffs, right? Nobody suspects us of anything."

"And that's why a smart person would pick Hufflepuff," I countered. "Nobody suspects the Hufflepuff."

"You don't get to _pick_ Houses," Alfie said. "The Hat chooses for you."

"It takes your choice into account though," I pointed out.

"And what, you chose Hufflepuff? So you wouldn't get noticed when you turn into a serial killer?"

"No," I said honestly. The Hat had reached the same conclusion that I had, although it was a tossup between the two.

"Dammit," said Alfie. "I could have chosen Gryffindor."

"Hey, Hufflepuff isn't so bad," said Cedric, in ear-shot, helping himself to some dumplings. "I'll let you all in on a secret. We're right next to the Kitchens."

"Well in that case, cancel the transfer to Gryffindor," said Alfie with a bark of laughter. "I'm right at home."

Laughter followed, and I was beginning to think that my first few years at Hogwarts might not be so bad after all. Or at least, that was what I thought up until 8:40pm later that night.

 **II.**

It began as it always does. On a dark and stormy night. What had started off as little rain as possible – such a small amount that I had not paid it any mind earlier – gave way to a torrential downpour and I was thankful that the Hufflepuff common rooms were fairly close by to the Great Hall. But of course, this being Hogwarts, I wasn't content to just go to bed. "Hey," I said to Alfie, as we made our way away from the Great Hall. He seemed like the kind of guy who went along with things fairly easily, so I suggested, as anyone would do when they find themselves in the place that they've dreamed of visiting since they were a young child, even if it betrayed my somewhat Gryffindor tendencies in the process – "Want to go and explore?"

"On our first night when we don't know our way back to the common room, could get lost at any given point and never find our way back?" Alfie asked, and for the briefest of seconds I was wondering whether or not he'd say no. "Absolutely."

We waited until there was a corner and ducked away from the rest of the group, making sure that we had been at the very back to avoid detection. It didn't take us long to split up from the group, but more to the point, it also didn't take us long to realise that we were well and truly lost.

"Well, that didn't go to plan," I said, the chatter of portraits still audible. Some were probably gossiping about us, and the sight of the moving artwork never really got old, even for someone raised on a generation of smartphones and television.

"I did warn you," said Alfie. "Do you think we've set a new record?"

"A new record for what?"

"Quickest people to get lost in Hogwarts," said Alfie. "We've spent what, like a few hours here."

"Hey, is it just my imagination or is it getting darker?" I asked. We were walking down a corridor – I wasn't sure what one.

"You're not wrong," said Alfie. He pulled out his wand and whispered, " _Lumos._ "

It took him a few tries to get it right, but eventually, bright light filled the air. He elaborated, seeing my confusion, "I learned a few spells before coming here. I was worried that I wouldn't fall behind."

"Notice something odd about this corridor?" I couldn't help but ask as we made our way down. "All the other ones have paintings on them. But…"

"This one's just got frames," said Alfie, holding his light up to one. "It's like they've been burnt out. Look, there are scorch marks here."

"And here," I said, pointing to one.

"I don't like this," said Alfie, but didn't voice anything about wanting to go back. I think even though he was afraid, he was curious. Part of him wanted to know why the paintings were burned off, if there was any reason at all. I knew this because I was feeling exactly the same way.

We walked further forward down the corridor, passing a pair of torches flickering dimly. We couldn't have been that high up, ground level I guessed? Maybe somewhere near the dungeons, judging by the fact that the corridor was starting to decrease. A few steps further were followed by a loud crash, as Alfie had clumsily walked into a knight in shining armour. "How did you manage that?" I couldn't help but ask. "You're the one who's got a light." 

The Knight spoke, as if _light_ was a key voice activation, after having completed a re-assembly of itself like a Transformer, its joints reconnecting themselves by magic. "Gotta Light?" it said, startling us both, in a thick, gravelly voice. I could see no lips and wondered how it had learned to talk at all. I noticed that once it had re-assembled itself, which didn't take long, it held a wooden torch in its hand used to light the way. It repeated itself again. "Gotta Light?" 

"I think it wants us to light it," said Alfie, as it repeated itself for the third time.

"You don't know a spell that'll light something on fire, will you?"

"No, but there's some torches back there," said Alfie, gesturing to the torches that were still visible. "But I think we should go back, Robin."

"Where's your sense of adventure, Alfie? It's only a Talking Knight, Hogwarts has loads of these. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Fine," said Alfie. "But if we get detention for this I'm blaming you." 

He gave me his wand and headed back down the corridor. A few minutes later, he returned with the torch, and lit the flame.

The world lit up.

I had to cover my eyes, the darkness replaced by a searing bright light. The fire spread around in all directions, guided by strategically placed torches, that had seemingly come out of nowhere, coming painfully close to us, to the point where I could feel the raw heat against my face. The chants of "Gotta Light?" increased from the Talking Knight over and over again, and then its head exploded like a firework.

"I think now might be a good time to run," said Alfie, but I was already looking elsewhere, in the direction of what previously hadn't been visible behind me. He followed my gaze.

"Oh my God," I said, audibly, aloud. I hadn't been more scared in my life, and that was honest-to-god fact. But then again, I'd never seen a dead body before. Or more accurately, I'd never seen parts of _two_ dead bodies before. The head was chopped off, different from the rest of the overweight body that proceeded it. There were no marks on either corpse, and from a distance, had the head not been re-attached to a body that was not its own the corpse might even have passed for someone who was unconscious.

I was pretty sure I had soiled myself, and I had the feeling that Alfie would have laughed if he wasn't so scared. I had to remember of course that he was an actual eleven-year-old, and was amazed that he hadn't ran already.

There was blood red writing written on the wall next to the body, and I was instantly reminded of the first message that heralded the discovery of the Chamber of Secrets. But this was not some anti-pureblood slogan. This was something far more chilling, simply because unlike the Chamber, I had no idea what was going to happen next, no idea if this was going to be resolved, and no idea who was the cause. My foreknowledge of the future was basically worthless.

 _IT IS HAPPENING AGAIN,_ it read, in big, bold letters. _IT IS HAPPENING AGAIN._

I didn't even stop to ask what was going to happen again, because even before the last few torches were lit in the hallway, we were running for our lives.

 **END.**

 _You have to remember that they are eleven after all. So of course, they're going to be scared when they see a corpse and a head. This is decidedly more influenced by Twin Peaks, a brief homage to the incredible "Gotta Light?" is included as well as a couple of other scenes. But they will progress in different ways from the series, so don't expect the storyline to be repeated in a different setting._


	6. The Girl in the Cage

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Six: The Girl in the Cage**

 **I.**

It was ten o'clock at night and I was sat down in front of a chair opposite the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher. The brown-haired Henry Torrance took command of the room immediately as he entered, with a pipe in hand, smoking it. The smoke filled his face, but he had some spell in place, or at least I presumed, whether it was on the Pipe or his person I did not know, to prevent him from coughing. "An addiction," he said once he had sat down. "Old habits die hard. Now, you understand this is procedural, Robin. We don't suspect you of having committed any crimes. As it stands, you're the first person to see the bodies, if reports are accurate."

"The bodies?" I asked. "So, there was two of them."

"Yes. We're still working on identifying the corpse, but I think… and I'm alright telling you this because the news is going to get out if it hasn't already," said Professor Torrance, "The head belonged to my predecessor, Hank Mallory. He moved into this room, you know? The very room that we're standing in. It was the first time Defence lessons have ever been moved. I guess it means bad luck."

"I thought he'd committed suicide, sir," I said, bluntly.

"Oh? Where did you hear that now?" Professor Torrance asked, raising his eyebrow. "It may come as a shock for you to hear, but schoolyard gossip isn't always accurate. No, Professor Mallory did not commit suicide. He was murdered. Made to look like a suicide, potentially, it's harder to tell when you can't find the corpse. But enough of that. I want to know what you were doing at eight-thirty in the evening when you should have been in your common room."

"It's all my fault sir," I said, deciding to take the blame for something that I had persuaded Alfie to do, and told the truth, or at least, a version of it. "I wanted to explore Hogwarts. It's been my dream since I was a kid and first heard about it." 

"That's funny," said Professor Torrance, looking me right in the eyes, his dark-green colour making contact with my own. "Because young Mr. Snyder said exactly the same thing. I was told about your House loyalty but I didn't think it would be this serious on your first night."

"Whichever one of us it was Sir," I said. "That's the idea. We wanted to explore."

"And you went down rather than up?"

"It was dark, we weren't really looking where we were going," I said. "We weren't really thinking."

"And there's the crux of the matter. You weren't really thinking. What if that man had been alive? And the body had belonged to someone dangerous? You could be dead," said Professor Torrance. "It's safer to explore Hogwarts when you know where you're going."

"Sir, with all due respect, we were safe," I said. "As long as Dumbledore's around, nobody would ever dream of attacking any student in the castle."

"Yet someone just waltzed in here with two dead bodies and set up a trap and two students just happened to walk right into the middle of it," said Professor Torrance. "Tell me. What were the words the Knight said again?"

"Gotta Light?" I said, emphasising the question enough to make him know that I wasn't asking for one. Thankfully there were no differences in pronunciation between the two of us.

"Gotta Light," echoed Professor Torrance, repeating himself once more, almost like the phase was entrancing. " _Gotta Light._ "

"Like that sir," I said. "It kept repeating them over and over, and then-"

"Shut up," said Professor Torrance bluntly, before I could add something onto the end of the sentence. It felt weird, being told to shut up directly by a teacher. I wasn't a troublemaker. But seconds after, I realised he wasn't directing the comment to something that I said. He was directing it at something else.

Or rather, someone else. There was a sound, coming from beneath us. A distinctive knocking sound, repeated over and over again. The beat was in consecutive fours. _One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four._

"Do you hear that?"

"Yes sir."

"Where's that coming from?"

"Beneath us."

"I know it's coming from beneath us, but I want to know where from. And why it only just started making that sound when we said those words," said Professor Torrance, spreading out across the room over the carpet. "Whatever is down there, it obviously heard us before. And there's something else too, something that worries me. I looked at a map of the castle before I came here so I could get a sense of location, and I looked at this room in particular."

"Sir?"

"According to the map," said Professor Torrance, adding a heavy pause before his next statement, as if waiting for the knocking to start again. "There shouldn't be a room beneath us. " 

_One-two-three-four, one-two-three-four._

"A hidden room?"

"That Dumbledore doesn't know about," said Professor Torrance. "I'd have thought it impossible too, myself. But even great men are not all-seeing. The question remains however… if there is a hidden room, how to we access it? Ten points to Hufflepuff if you can find out within the next ten seconds, because I already know."

I glanced down at the floor. "The carpet, sir? There could be a trap door beneath."

"Correct," said Professor Torrance. "I sensed I stood on something wooden once I came in, but ignored it and thought it was nothing. There must be some sort of compulsion charm on it. Like the Leaky Cauldron, I assume you've been there?"

"Yes sir. Not to drink, though," I added hastily.

"Of course not," said the man. "Word of advice, Mr. Kennedy. Don't. Now. If I were you, I'd stand back. What we find down here may not be pretty."

"Should we alert the Professors, sir?"

"They're busy with the clean-up or in bed," said Professor Torrance. "I think we can alert them after we find out what we're dealing with. It might just be a prank, after all. Besides, what Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would I be if I didn't solve my own problems?"

He pulled back the carpet and sure enough, there was a wooden hatch. It took the both of us to get it open, but in the end, it gave way to a hidden cellar. " _Lumos,_ " Professor Torrance said, and instantly, the light bloomed more powerful than Alfie's ever could. He took point on the situation, advancing down. I waited a few minutes and then followed him in, and was shocked at what we found.

There was a cage. A bleak, metallic cage with enough dust that looked as though it hadn't been touched in years. Coupled with a metallic bowl and an empty food tray, it didn't take me long to realise what I was looking at, and the revelation made me sick. It gave me a physically _sick_ feeling. The Cage was occupied, not by any animal – it was far too big for that – but a human. An honest to god, real-life human, a girl – no more than twelve or thirteen - was being held in the cage, skinny and in ragged clothing.

"Now might be a good time to alert the Professors," said Professor Torrance, in just as much shock as I was. But neither of us moved. The girl had short black hair, and it was clearly shaved. She looked weak and malnourished, having just had enough food to keep her alive. "Hello there," he couldn't help but ask as the girl covered her eyes to protect herself from the bright light. "Don't be afraid. It's going to be alright now. My name's Professor Henry Torrance. What's your name?"

"Robin Kennedy," she said, hoarse and weak, looking at me directly in the eye, with a gaze that felt like it pierced right into my soul.

Professor Torrance looked at me and I knew that if I hadn't been in any trouble before, I was now. "Well," he said with a heavy sigh. "I certainly picked an interesting day to start my Hogwarts Career."

 **II.**

The Girl was taken to the Hospital Wing almost immediately, wrapped from head-to-toe in a blanket. Her skin made no contact with anyone during this time, I noticed, and it almost looked like in some cases she was going out of her way to avoid doing so. After more questioning, I was led down to the Hospital Wing, where she was waiting for me, alone.

"We would like you to talk to her," said Professor Torrance. "It seems you're the only one she'll speak to. Merlin knows why."

"Believe me Professor, I'm still trying to figure out myself," I said. _What had Robin been doing before I took his body?_ I didn't know. Apparently these two knew each other, or at least – had been _told_ to know each other. Did The Girl know that I was an imposter? Was my cover about to be blown? But needless to say, Dumbledore had given me permission to approach The Girl if I wanted to, and I was willing to help. I was as interested to find out more about her as the staff were.

"Hey," I said, once I had carefully approached her and I felt the door to the Hospital Wing slam shut, and I began to wonder if Professor Torrance had my best interests at heart or was just keen on getting the mystery solved as quickly as possible. It was probably the latter. "I'm Robin Kennedy. Apparently, you know who I am."

"Robin… Kennedy," she said, testing the name on the tongue. "I know who you are. I know who you are not. You are a stranger."

"Hey, you're safe now," I said, trying to divert the topic. "Nobody's going to harm you anymore. What's your name?"

"Call me Ishmael," said The Girl, and I knew instantly what she was referring to. _Moby Dick._ I wondered if Ethan knew that he shared the same surname with the author. Probably not. She spoke slow, like she was learning a foreign language to her.

I asked her directly. "Moby Dick?" 

"It was read to me," said The Girl. "The only book I can remember. My name is not Ishmael. But I do not know what name I should go by. The name I was called before is forgotten to me. Call me what you wish."

"How about we lose Ishamael," I said. She looked up at me from the hospital bed. "It's a little old-fashioned. What about Renée?"

It was a common name in France, according to my mother. The name it was derived from meant something in the bible, but I wasn't sure what, and she tried it again to see if it fit, and for the first time, I saw her smile. She had an aura about her however that was extremely off-putting to me, and it had the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end, but I dismissed it as still being scared from the double threat of the corpse and the cage.

"That will do," she said. "If you are using a name that is not my own, it is fitting that I should use one that is not mine. I have a message for you. From The Covenant Man."

"The Covenant Man?" I asked. "Wait, who is The Covenant Man?"

"He is looking forward to meeting you again," said Renée, as if in a trance, as if she was spell-bound to repeat those words. "When the time comes. And that there is more."

Seriously? I was hoping for a quiet year. I didn't want this. at least, none more than what was in the books already. But it looked like I wasn't going to get it. I didn't know about The Covenant Man and as far as I was concerned, she was lying. I hadn't met him before. But maybe Robin had? I didn't know. There was too much going on and it was far too late for me to take it all in.

" _Beware the Woodsman, the Watcher on the Wall,"_ she said, in a voice that I would never forget, as long as I lived. A voice that was decidedly not her own, sounding hoarse, like a man's. " _This is the water, and this is the well. Drink full and descend. The horse is the white of the eyes, and the dark within. This is the water and this is the well. Drink full and descend."_

 **END.**

 _Again, another call-back to Gotta Light? With the final quotes taken directly from the episode. The Covenant Man is a Stephen King creation. The Girl in the Cage is inspired from Castle Rock where they found The Kid in Shawshank Prison. I'm using the groundwork of both shows for setting up this plot, but it's going to spiral out in a different direction fairly quickly if all goes to plan, these first few chapters are mostly just putting the pieces in place for everything to fall apart later. The whole aim of this is to see how different Stephen King stories would affect and change if they were in the Harry Potter world, so whilst there are some similarities there will be also many glaring differences._

 _And of course, it wasn't just going to be a random coincidence that saw Aaron end up in Robin's body. There's more to Robin than appears, and the past is not easily forgotten._


	7. Day One

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Seven: Day One**

 **I.**

By the time I left the Hospital Wing, I was shaken. Madame Pomphrey had performed her usual check-ups on me, and I was shunted out of the room, thankful for the fact that I had least got some resemblance of sleep on the train. I walked out the door after telling Professor Torrance what I knew, to which he promised to relay it to Dumbledore and get back to me at a later date about what it exactly meant. "Get some sleep," he'd said. "And twenty points to Hufflepuff for your co-operation."

What else was I supposed to do? Say no? I rounded a corner and walked past a bench, and it took me a few moments to find Alfie sitting there, exhausted. He yawned, but kept his eyes closed. "You know, I've been practising walking about with my eyes closed. Just for a few seconds every day. Blind people do it every day, so we should walk a mile in their shoes."

"It's a lot easier to do it when you're sitting down and haven't slept," I said. "Why did you wait for me?"

"Because that's what friends do, right?" Alfie said, with a smile, and threw me a Tennis Ball that I took a few seconds to recognise was my own. I caught it, realising that I must have dropped it at some point along the journey. His eyes remained closed. "Plus, I thought you wouldn't know your way back to the dormitory, so I asked and found a way."

"Thanks."

"Also, you've got the worst room. Just so you're aware," said Alfie.

"We get rooms?"

"Yeah. The houses in the Towers don't, but the ones on ground level do. They've got more room," said Alfie, by way of explanation. "One of the perks about being sorted into Hufflepuff. Come on. Let's go. You can tell me everything that happened on the way." 

**II.**

 ****I must have been too tired to pay that much attention to my room because the first thing that I remembered the following morning was walking to breakfast. The Hufflepuff Common Room looked simple in nature, nothing overtly flashy like I remembered the Gryffindor one to be, but House Colours were still on display. One of the older Hufflepuffs approached me in the Hallway, and I noticed it must have been a Prefect, a boy whose name I would find out to be Thomas Custer. Thomas said once he'd introduced himself, "I've just been informed by Professor Sprout about why you didn't make it to the House meeting on the first night, so I've been asked to relay a few ground rules."

We talked as we walked, not slowing down. The boy was pretty much as good as a jock, or at least what the equivalent would be, but he was a Hufflepuff and that counted for something. Or at least, it was supposed to. "A lot of people look down on us because we're basically viewed as the house for leftovers. Slytherins especially. But the more you stay here, the more pride you'll find in being able to represent a house that takes anyone without boundaries. It's open to all. We only ask that you treat others how you yourself would expect to be treated. It's bad enough that the rest of the school looks down on us, the last thing we need is in-fighting among our own." 

"I'll bear that in mind," I said. "I don't plan on making any enemies."

"Good. Professor Sprout also asked that you report to Professor Dumbledore after your first day of lessons," said Thomas. "I've been told to tell you that it's just a formality. You aren't getting punished at all. Hell, if we punished the students at Hogwarts who got lost on their first day there'd be no students left by the second."

"Thanks," I said.

"That's all, I think," said Thomas. "Anything I've forgotten your friends can tell you. Oh, by the way, congratulations on getting us some points this early. That might be a new record. But two things I'd like to add on that – the first, don't let it get to your head, and the second, Slytherin have won non-stop for _years,_ so I wouldn't expect any change there. Anything else you need, come find some of the Prefects or Cedric Diggory. I know he's not a Prefect but he's twice the person some of the Prefects in the other Houses are."

"Thanks. I'll bear that in mind," I said, and then proceeded into the Great Hall, where Alfie was sat, yawning. I sat down next to him and noticed there were a few cheerful looks in my direction, thanking me for the House points that I'd already gained.

"We got some timetables," said Alfie, handing me mine. "Look. Potions first. Quidditch Practice in the afternoon. With the Ravenclaws, thank God. Last thing I needed was Slytherins on a Monday Morning."

"Potions with Professor Snape, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good luck with that," I said, exercising my knowledge of the future, which I had precious little to do. "Snape's meant to be a mean bastard."

 **II.**

Snape was in fact, "a mean bastard." No sooner had we arrived in the class he was taking points off both our Houses for things as small as having shirts untucked. The 20 points that I'd won for Hufflepuff were dropping like a rock, so I did my best to compensate with a potion when it came down to practising.

But it did not go to plan. A few seconds later, I realised that I added completely the wrong ingredient, and the potion exploded in my face. Becoming good at Potions wasn't as easy as it looked, and considering it was the magical equivalent of Science, that was no surprise, I was always more enthusiastic about the Humanities and Languages subjects at school – there was a reason why I was on course for an A in both French and German – if I ever got around to taking the exams, but the more on the science and numbers side of things was my weak point. Thankfully, magic didn't really rely on numbers that much, so I figured as long as I remembered to 'invent' the calculator, I would be okay.

These quills were massively impractical, too. I kept having to reload my ink and I was pretty sure there were several spots on my paper when we switched to the essay writing portion of the subject, which Snape instantly caught up on. Even though the essay writing was virtually nothing compared to what I was used to and what I was preparing for at College next year in my world, half a page of parchment still took an ungodly time to fill up. _Note to self. Next year: Bring a pen._ Pens weren't electronical. They should have no problem fitting through the wards.

By the end, five points for Hufflepuff had been lost. Even after what I knew about Snape in the books, it felt hard to find any sympathy for him whatsoever, he was just a bully who didn't even have the charm of Alan Rickman. At the end of the lesson once we'd left the room, Alfie said to me, "I sure hope the rest of our lessons aren't as bad as that. That was torture. I don't think I can survive six weeks of Snape's class, let alone another six years after this one. The Potions class is cursed like the Defence one, right? Please tell me it's cursed."

"Don't think so," I said. "But you could always try and invent a curse yourself."

"I'm alright thanks. I don't want to set a record for expulsion from Hogwarts," said Alfie. "What lesson do we have next?"

"You were the one who gave me the timetable."

"Doesn't mean that I looked at it. I just looked at the subjects I wanted to do the most."

"You actually wanted to do Potions?"

"I had no idea Snape was going to be _this bad,_ " said Alfie. "He killed pretty much every interest I had in the subject in the space of one-hour. It felt like two."

We were walking past The Great Hall when I noticed Professor Torrance, and he was not alone. He had Renée with him. The girl was wearing a robe that looked about two sizes too big for her, and I noticed she had gloves on both hands. "Ah, there you are," said Professor Torrance, approaching me. "I was hoping to catch you. Myself and Professor Dumbledore had a talk with Renée this morning and we believe that for the time being, it is best to integrate her into the Hogwarts student body. She has no family to return to and she possesses magical ability, extraordinarily so, in fact. As she seems to know you, I felt it would be best if you were to act as her guide for the first few weeks whilst she is able to establish herself with her new classmates."

"And you're okay with this?" I asked Renée.

She nodded. "Like the Professor said, I have no family to return to."

"I'm sorry," I said. There wasn't really anything else to say.

"I didn't know them," she said, and it somehow made it even worse. "I don't remember much about my past."

"Well then," Professor Torrance said. "That will be that. Oh, and before I forget, she was sorted into Hufflepuff a few minutes ago. That was why I thought to come to you." 

"Thanks, Professor," I said, knowing the full weight of responsibility on my shoulders. Renée was just experiencing her first-time outside bars in God Knows how many years. It felt wrong, rushing her back into Hogwarts life so quickly, but then it was best, I supposed to do so before friendship groups had been fully formed so she had a chance at making friends in her year and not being viewed as an outcast. Plus, she was keen, and as far as I knew, healthy.

It wasn't as exactly as though stranger things had happened in the books, right? They had _time travel,_ for crying out loud. "I heard you had Potions," said Renée. "How was it?" 

"I want you to kill me if I have to spend another six years with the same teacher," said Alfie, repeating what he'd said to me earlier, and she gave him an odd look, almost as if she was wondering whether or not he meant it literally, acting almost as though it was an invitation. "It was hell."

We talked as we walked towards our next lesson. The path to the lesson took us past a window, which was visible to the sun, and I noticed that Renée visibly flinched when we took her inside of the sun and I realised that she was still adjusting to the light. I decided not to bring it up, assuming that the last thing she would want would be to be reminded of her years behind bars, and I wondered what Professor Dumbledore and Professor Torrance were doing to find out more about how she ended up there, and the distinct lack of security that prevented her from being discovered. How had someone as despicable as Hank Mallory had been able to get away with this for so long without being detected? I wanted to go running up to Dumbledore and demand answers.

Renée walked on by and I knew those memories would stay with her for the rest of her life. Her first memory of Hogwarts was likely going to be a bad one, and that would change her view of the place forever. Surely Hogwarts was supposed to be a safer place than this? My idealistic viewpoint of the school was being shattered before my eyes.

And it hadn't even taken me forty-eight hours.


	8. The Hogwarts Football Society

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Eight: The Hogwarts Football Society**

 **I.**

There's one thing that we have to get out of the way first, and that is that I'm mortally afraid of heights. I threw up twice – _twice –_ on my first plane journey and ever since my parents always made sure that I took the ferry whenever we went to Europe. I had avoided going to the Owlery for this very reason, and it might have been part of why the hat put me in Hufflepuff – it could tell that living in a tower at the top of a tall castle wasn't a good thing for me. So naturally, having Quidditch Practise on one particular afternoon, on the very first day at Hogwarts, meant that I was going to have to do whatever possible not to show.

And it wasn't long before I had an idea, and went up to Alfie at lunch. "Hey," I said. "Do you want to skip Quidditch this afternoon and play some football?"

"Why not?" he said, helping himself to a sandwich, thick with chicken and salad. I myself was munching on a Tuna-cheese combo. "I mean, Quidditch is good and all, but football's great. We just have to find twenty other people who don't have lessons at 3pm on their first day and are willing to spend time with a couple of first year Hufflepuffs."

"Shouldn't be too hard," I said, asking the nearest muggle-born to me, Lucas Holt, a second year with blonde hair. "Hey, Lucas? Want to play football this afternoon? 3pm. We need as many people as possible." 

And this is how a revolution starts, I thought, as Lucas said, "Of course. Do you know how much I've longed to play something that isn't Quidditch at this school? It's good, but it's kind of the only sport. I can think of about eight people who'd be up for it. Second year Hufflepuffs don't have a lesson this afternoon, Professor Torrance is taking a leave of absence – which is a bit strange, as it's just the first day – and none of the teachers want to replace him this early in the term, and I could probably get a few Gryffindors and Ravenclaws on board."

"So that would make eleven?" Alfie asked. "Half a team."

"I can play," Renée said. She had cautiously helped herself to some cheddar cheese, and was just eating it on her own. A few people gave her looks wondering who she was and why she hadn't made it to the Welcoming Feast, but they were mostly out of curiosity. Hufflepuffs weren't an inquisitive lot, which helped her. She'd already started talking to a couple of girls her own age, and had needed little looking after from me. She'd been excused from the first couple of lessons to wonder about and get a feel for the place, and had taken it to heart, and I'm pretty sure she had traversed the castle as much as possible by now. "But I don't know the rules."

"We can help you out," I said. "So, we just need 10 people."

"Well it's lunch," said Lucas, gesturing around at the people around him. "We could put on a show of inter-house unity. You fancy asking the Gryffindors?" 

We all split up and started hunting for 10 more people. By the end of lunch hour, ten quickly came forward, including a couple of purebloods from the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Houses, Ethan among them, who had decided to see what all the fuss was about with the sport that muggles loved so much. It helped too as the older students were more likely to know transfiguration, and it wasn't before long that we found ourselves on the other side of Hogwarts to the Quidditch Pitch, at 3pm, with about twenty-two students playing in total. A few people had come anyway to watch, but were quite happy to transfigure a football for us, as well as goalposts, and line-markers that drew out the pitch.

"And I declare the first meeting of the Hogwarts Football Society officially open," I said triumphantly, to a few giggles.

"Come on," said Alfie, "We need to get a better name than that. At least make it sound like a _proper_ football team. How about Hogwarts United?" 

There were various squabbles, but in the end we agreed to stick with the Hogwarts Football Society and come up with a name later. One fifth year asked, "So how do we do teams? By House?"

"Nah. We pick two captains and then the captains pick who they want on their teams in turn. Since nobody knows who's good at football and who's not, it's fair," I said. "And then if it turns out to be an imbalance we change over the next time."

"I'm okay with that," said Alfie. "So who are the captains?"

"Well naturally, I think it should be the people who started the game," suggested Ethan. "Alfie and Robin."

"That sounds fair."

"Hey, you still haven't told us all the rules yet! Where do I stand for a corner kick?" asked one of the purebloods from Ravenclaw, a Geoffrey Lance, if I remembered his name correctly. How he worked out what a corner kick was, I'll never know. But we divided the teams down the middle equally, and explained the rules, and even though a few purebloods were dissuaded by the use of one ball and that much physical exercise, we decided to play a half hour match for starters rather than a full professional 90 minute one. Half of these were eleven-year-old kids. They weren't exactly Arsenal's Invincibles.

A fifth-year transfigured jerseys with the help of a younger muggle-born providing descriptions the best he could. As I was the captain, I picked the JVC Arsenal 90s home shirt, which wasn't old-school in the era that I currently resided in, and the red and white was matched up against the Manchester United away jersey, which apparently was blue and white. It had been Alfie's pick, just to annoy me. The two teams were much more fierce rivals in the 90s than the present day, from what I remembered. A coin-toss of a sickle later, and Alfie started the kick-off.

The game was a mess, but that was to be expected. We weren't professionals after all, we weren't even semi-professionals. We were just a bunch of kids running after the ball. I liked to pretend that there was tactical awareness but the fact of the matter, there wasn't. I'm pretty sure that the goalkeeper kept running forward from both sides, and by the time that somebody noticed that we weren't present at our respective lessons and had deduced our whereabouts, it was reaching Cricket-level scorelines. I decided it was probably best that we didn't introduce the offside rule just yet. But still, as I was brought down with an ill-timed tackle by Alfie and plunged face-first into the dirt, I was beginning to get why Hogwarts felt like home for so many people. Even Renée seemed to enjoy herself – she had been picked for my time, and had been able to score a couple of goals.

So of course, that experience was taken away from me by an angry Madame Hooch, who sent a charm at the football that we had been using and promptly obliterated it into smithereens. "How dare you flaunt classes on your first day, young Mr. Snyder and Mr. Kennedy! The rest of you should know better. All of your houses should be ashamed, I'm taking twenty points from Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. An extra ten points away from Hufflepuff for the ringleaders."

"M'am, with all due respect-" I tried to mount some sense of a counter argument, but it was shut down.

"Detention for the ringleaders," said Madame Hooch, looking at me with a stern look of disapproval. "At the weekend, on Saturday. From nine until five in the Trophy Room, and be lucky that it isn't longer."

I threw up my arms in disgust, but she wasn't having any of it. A few of the older students tried to protest it wasn't fair, and inter-house unity should be encouraged, but that too was shut down by a stern look and threats of detention.

"Look at the state of you," said Madame Hooch. "Covered in mud. Filthy. I expected better from Hogwarts students. You shouldn't reduce yourself to this level. Playing a sport that hasn't been played on Hogwarts grounds since its inception, and a muggle sport at that! I should expel you all for having the gall to think you could pull this off. Quidditch has and always will be the only sport played on these grounds."

And with that she turned and walked away, presumably too disgusted by the notion of another sport being played on Hogwarts grounds to remind us to return to the rest of the lesson. I was furious, and Alfie clearly noticed. He too, was livid. "This feels way too harsh. Do you think we should take it up with Dumbledore?"

"No," I said. "We don't want to bother him. We've got to do this on our own. I'm not playing Quidditch. I can't fly."

"What?"

"Me and heights don't go well together," I said, stubbornly. "I'm not going to back down about this. If she thinks she can deter us from playing football instead…"

"I don't think it's the playing football part she's worried about, it's more to the point that you're skipping one of her lessons," said Alfie.

"Yeah, but did you see how she shut us down like that? Like we could be expelled."

"That was probably just an empty threat. Look, whatever you do, I'm sure Hufflepuff will stand by you."

"Yeah," said a voice from behind me. It was Ethan. He walked up to me. "If you want to play football again, we're there. You shouldn't have skipped a lesson, but the way Hooch treated you was way too harsh."

"I have an idea."

 **II.**

Detention came around far quicker than I anticipated. The first week of classes were a breeze, and thankfully I only had one lesson of Quidditch that week and it was on the first day. Muggle Studies with Professor Burbage was a walk in the park, yes, I knew what cars were, yes I knew what muggle money was and yes I knew where London was. It was kind of insulting to have all of the non-magical subjects compressed into a single hour each week (no wonder there was so much anti-muggle bigotry), and when myself and Alfie swindled into the trophy room at 8:50 on a Saturday morning, we were ready for hell.

It was to be my first encounter with Argus Filch, and to our surprise, I noticed that myself and Alfie were not the only ones there. We sat down at one of the desks and were joined by Katie Bell, who I had always assumed was someone who didn't get into trouble that much, and surprisingly, Renée had turned up. She was joined by Cho Chang of all people, the Ravenclaw. There was five of us. "No funny business from all of you, you hear?" Filch said. "I am going to be right outside that door, and Mrs. Norris will be keeping an eye on you. Anything that she hears, I hear. So, you better watch yourself around her." 

Alfie rolled his eyes in the direction of Cho, who snorted. Filch did his best to glare at both of them. "I have been instructed by Madame Hooch for you to write a full-page article on why Quidditch is superior to any other sport," he said. "And examine your own personal attitudes towards the sport."

The two non-Hufflepuffs in the room were super excited about this. It was an easy subject matter for them, they were devout followers of Quidditch. Filch had left the room, no doubt lying about his constant vigil, to continue his daily task. "This is easy," Cho said. "I could write it and be done in thirty minutes."

"Yeah, but then what would you be doing for the rest of the day? Twiddling your thumbs?" I asked. "Besides, it's not like Quidditch is the best sport in the world. But that's beside the point. The whole thing's unfair. There shouldn't just be one sport at Hogwarts. Muggle schools have multiple. Football, Tennis, Rounders, Rugby…."

"Yeah but who needs all those sports when you just have one?" Katie said. "Quidditch has elements of them all wrapped into one. You want to hit something with a bat, be a Beater. You want to score a goal through a hoop, Chaser, you want to catch a smaller ball, Seeker. You want to stop balls from going through hoops, be 'keeper."

"All on a small thin piece of wood dangling god knows how high above the ground, which you could get knocked off at any second" I said. "No thank you."

Someone was making a clicking sound with her thumb inside her mouth. I turned around and notice that it was coming from Renée. Keen to change the subject matter, I addressed her directly. "Hey, how did you get in here?"

She shrugged. "I got nothing better do, I guess." 

Laughter from Cho, Katie and Alfie. "Seriously?" Cho said. "The last place in the world I'd want to be is detention, cooped up, unable to do anything."

"How'd you end up in here, then?"

"My friend Marietta was bullied by a Slytherin," said Cho. "I was close enough to hit him, so I did. Broke his nose, too. But unfortunately, Snape was standing right behind me."

"Ouch."

Hours passed, and no words racked up on the page. Filch had obviously just not bothered to come back, although given my knowledge of the books it was highly likely Mrs. Norris was waiting outside to check if we left, so I wasn't about to check any time soon. Plus, the door was probably locked.

"So, what happens now?" asked Alfie, around lunchtime, rousing us from our slumber. "Do we just knock on the door and hope someone else hears us?"

Before I could properly yawn myself awake, food popped onto the table in front of us, a bunch off tuna sandwiches, and some non-fizzy drinks. "Now," I said, thankful for the ever-observant house-elves. "We eat lunch, I guess. You can have anything you want as long as it's tuna."

"I don't like fish," said Alfie, grumbling.

"Who doesn't like fish?" Katie asked, eagerly helping herself to the sandwich. "It's amazing."

"Here," I suggested. "You take out the tuna and then you have a salad-sandwich. Salad-wich."

"Saladwich," said Alfie. "I like that. What about you, Cho?"

"Oh, I was just debating whether to take the bigger one or let you guys have it," she said, shrugged, and then took it anyway. Renée hung back, I noticed, but eventually took a sandwich that was off to the side of the pile, and chewed on it slowly and deliberately, as opposed to Katie and Alfie, who were starving by this point that they ate their food like nobody was watching.

I noticed that Cho wasn't particularly hungry despite taking the big sandwich, so I said, "I have an idea. Whilst I recognise the merits of Quidditch and the fact that some people love it, I don't think it's fair that it should be the only sport at Hogwarts. There should be others, and I'm not counting chess or any kind of wizarding sports. Muggleborns who come here have to spend a whole year isolated away from their favourite sport, their favourite football team, not finding out how they're doing apart from in letters, not being able to find out how they were doing through the radio or watch a single game. Imagine if the same thing happened with you for Quidditch for a year. No Quidditch, not even the faintest bit of news coming in about how well the Chudley Cannons were doing."

"Nobody ever supports the Chudley Cannons, and I wouldn't need to know how well they're doing because I know that they'd be losing," said Cho, "But I see your point. I'm just not sure Hooch will. Breaking out of tradition can be hard for some people." 

"I guess maybe we can work about changing that," I said, helping myself to a sandwich.

"What do you suggest?"

"I don't know," I said, throwing my arms up in the air in defeat after rolling around a couple of ideas in my head.

"We all write one essay. Collectively," Alfie chimed in, still polishing off the last of his food to the point where It was hard tell what he was saying.

"Come again?" Katie asked.

"He said," Renée pointed out, "We all should write one essay together. The same essay."

"About the merits of having different sports clubs, at the very least, at Hogwarts, and making Quidditch optional for those who don't want to play," I said, and seeing a look from Cho, added, "But there will be alternative sports provided. Like running. Or Football. Beneath the pitch while the people who are playing Quidditch can play above. Or rather, on the surface level of the pitch."

"Who writes it then? If we're only writing one paper."

"I think Katie and Cho should write the Quidditch half," said Renée. "And Robin and Alfie should write the football one. And I should write the conclusion."

"That sounds fair," said Katie. "Any objections?"

There were none, so we wrote the paper, and handed it to Filch when we left at 3pm, knowing that Hooch would not receive the paper until the following day.

And all we could do was wait for her reaction.


	9. Behold, I Will Tell You A Mystery

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Nine: Behold, I Will Tell You A Mystery**

 **I.**

Professor Henry Torrance had arranged the meeting with the family of the recently departed Professor Mallory at 10:30am in the morning. It would have meant that he had missed yet another one of his lectures, they were starting to pile up now, but he was told that Dumbledore was working on finding a replacement teacher so that the students didn't fall so far behind. The replacement was Rowan Callahan, an Irishman from Cork, who had jumped at the opportunity to return to Hogwarts. Dumbledore was understandably annoyed but didn't want to risk the hassle of getting the Aurors involved and risk the outrage that would come from _The Daily Prophet_ about having a girl locked in a cage for god-knows-how long. It suited Henry perfectly. He had been a private investigator operating out of various locations such as Chicago and New York for the past few years anyway before moving to Castle Rock when his business finally dried up, and was used to having to go anywhere in the country at a moments notice.

He listened to music as he went. He was an outcast from his society in Chicago among wizards for his embracement of muggle ideas and many a wizard who needed his help would only do so in secrecy, often visiting his shop under Polyjuice potion so they would not be detected. Coming to Hogwarts was a welcome breath of fresh air. He had hoped to get away from the unwanted fame from the Overlook Hotel incident, much to the frustrations of his daughter who was insistent that he embrace it. She was even contemplating changing her name to _Jackie_ of all things. As if that wasn't tempting fate. The Temptations' _I Wish it Would Rain_ played over the headphones as he walked up to the meeting place in the small, countryside village that hosted the family of Professor Mallory.

Something was wrong almost immediately. _KEEP OUT_ was spray-painted on the door, and the front two windows were smashed. The anti-muggle protection was broken, as muggles were clearly beginning to take in the oddities of the house, but thankfully there weren't many of them so they were quickly obliviated and sent on their way. Restoring the wards with little difficulty, Henry advanced through the door, wand drawn.

It wasn't long before he saw the first dead body, and it looked like it had been mauled by an angry dog. There were bits of intensities sprawled out on the floor everywhere, and Henry covered his mouth instantly. He noticed that there were more occult symbols here than in most wizarding homes, the number of the beast – 666 – was present in multiple number-based equipment. Most of the voodoo magic was just parlour tricks – but there were few people who knew how to use it and even fewer who knew how to use it well. Judging by the moving photos of the elderly relatives of Professor Mallory, who looked like they were in some sort of cult, clad in white robes displayed very publicly, all too publicly for his liking, it seemed like they at least took the subject matter seriously. The woman at the centre of one of the photos was being elevated as though she was ascending to the heavens, and it didn't take long for Henry to notice her among the corpses, still in the same dress.

But what bothered him the most was the fact that she didn't look terrified, clearly, she'd heard the ruckus of the windows being broken before she died. If anything, she looked pleased, happy to see the stranger who had come to kill her. So, a relative? A friend? A Loved one? It raised questions. It could also be a member of the cult, Henry wasn't ruling anything out yet. Either way, it was complicated. He inspected the bodies, or what was left of them, and found a piece of paper written down that looked like it had been torn from a diary. " _Behold, I Will Tell You A Mystery,"_ it said, and then he folded it over and read, in hastily scrawled font, getting more and more frantic - " _Aamon is Coming. He knocks at the door even now, in the dead of night. The Watcher on the Wall. The four knocks that herald a fate that we have prepared for. This can only mean one thing. Our son is dead, the devil walks among us and Aamon is here. Aamon is…"_

Aamon is.

The hairs on the back of Henry's neck stood on end at the mere mention of the name of Aamon. What was it? Was it a creature or a person? One thing was certain, he had to find out. He took special care to notice that the writing specified The Devil and Aamon as being identified as two separate things, not the same entity. What was Aamon? What was The Devil? It was time to draw up a list of possible suspects.

 **II.**

Bullies can sometimes be a little slow, and it was inevitable, that sooner or later, _someone would take issues with a certain student as to why_ Renée _hadn't been at the welcoming feast or sorted with everyone else. A Slytherin fourth year was the first of his ilk to notice, his name escaped me, but he quickly zeroed in on her as we left breakfast on Sunday morning. "You," he said. "Why weren't you at the Welcome Feast? Did you get lost? Do you think you're too good for us?"_

"Ignore it," said Alfie, who was walking with us. He had his own unpleasant experience of Slytherin House to share. "I've seen enough of Slytherins in the past week to know that I'm glad that I never ended up there. That whole house is evil."

The black-haired Slytherin stumbled over once he was ignored, and pulled at Renée's arm in a bid to get her to look at him, contacting her bare skin. I noticed it was rare that she actually left her skin exposed, and wondered what the reason behind that could be. The Slytherin recoiled as if struck by lightning, and looked at her. "Leave me alone," said Renée. I got the feeling that this wasn't a simple gesture of fear. It was a command, which inexplicably, the boy obeyed and turned away. She shot daggers at him with her eyes, not keeping them off him until he had rounded the corner.

"Wicked! How'd you do that?" Alfie said.

"I didn't do anything," she said, although I was not so sure. "I just told him to go away and he did."

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," Alfie said.

And that was the end of that discussion as we moved on to another topic, which was the training session that we'd established earlier in the week for football, as discreetly as possible, amongst the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who were willing to participate.

This particular incident however was only a minor in the overall scheme of things, or so I believed at the time, but my biggest regret was not pestering Renée further when I found out that the boy had somehow ended up in the Hospital Wing several hours later, overcome with a sickness that brought him down out of the blue. It had been something that not even Madame Pomfrey could find a cure, and all the diseases that she knew about were the only ones worth knowing about. But even by the time she touched the student, it was already far too late to stop what was to come.

 _(I see the bad moon rising, I see trouble on the way.)_

 _(I see earthquakes and lightnin', I see bad times today.)_

 **III.**

Training happened on a near-daily basis. It was vital to pull off what we had planned, and it was amazing with the coherency that the school responded to the situation in the few days that we had available to us before the lesson, which was at 10am on a Friday. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws who would be most affected did their best to practice in abandoned classrooms, and those who didn't have lessons made sure to play when Madame Hooch was teaching, so that word would not sneak back to her. I was amazed that everyone was willing to go so far for someone who they barely even knew, but the Hufflepuffs were a loyal lot. The Ravenclaws had probably been convinced by Cho, who had emerged herself as a fairly popular figurehead in her year, in part due to how smart she was but also due to the fact that she was more than capable of standing up for herself against bullies.

It was late afternoon on the Thursday towards the end of a tiring training session that had followed a hard days' worth of schoolwork when I found myself with Renée alone. We were playing a simple game of one-touch one-bounce, which I had inherited from my years at school. We had to keep the ball in the air it could only touch the floor once. It led to some entertaining results. "I've been practising," said Renée, after she forced me to lose the ball for what felt like hundredth time in a row. "Do you think we'll be good enough? I'm not sure whether or not we're ready."

The sun was setting on the lake behind us, the orange sky lighting up the surroundings. There was a Giant Squid in that lake, I knew, but it didn't seem to be interrupting our conversation, probably lost to the bottom of the lake. "There's only one way to find out," I said, after catching my breath from the intense nature of the football. I had to remember that I was in an even year old's body after all, there were limits to what I could do. "But I'm pretty sure we're ready."

 **IV.**

It was time to put my revolution into session, And everyone – or at least, most of the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws were on board with my plan. We would wear the Arsenal Jersey, again, of the era of course, and run out onto the pitch and hold our ground _Spartacus_ style, with the Ravenclaws clad in the Manchester United one. Was it corny, if only to get a new subject introduced? Yeah. But I'd rather do that than Quidditch, and football was a subject that I cared deeply about.

I was getting a stern look of disapproval from Hooch from the moment that we entered the changing rooms. It was about to get a whole lot worse. For me or for her, I didn't know yet. "Alright everyone," said a Hufflepuff. "Let's do this."

The transfigured jerseys had been smuggled in our bags, with help from an all-too willing to please House Elf. The benefits of living next to a Kitchen in the wizarding world did have its perks, after all – and the Elf was even willing to go out of its way to put the jerseys on us. By the time we had joined Hooch she was wondering what was taking so long for us to arrive at the Stadium, and it was to nobody's surprise that she was _furious_ when we refused to climb our brooms and take off in the air.

"With all due respect, m'am," said one of the Hufflepuffs, Jason Andrews. "I think we established that nobody wants to play Quidditch today."

"How dare you question my authority like this?" Hooch said. "And you, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs of all people! I expected something like this from the other two houses, but oh my, it appears the standards at Hogwarts have fallen so very far indeed."

"Maybe we should listen to her…" Alfie whispered to me.

"No, stick with the plan," I said. "Look, I know we've all been tired, but we've been training for this, remember? We've got to convince her that the sport can be good."

And not just that, we had to put on a display that would make the great Brazil side of the 1970 World Cup look like amateurs in comparison. "I'm going to get Professor Dumbledore," said Hooch. "None of you will leave the pitch. Chang _._ I know your mother is a professional Quidditch Player. You will be in charge of them until I return. I expected better from all of you."

She stormed off, as planned, and that was when the same fourth year, John Pullman, a friend of Ethan's in Ravenclaw - made his presence known. He had been hiding in the stands waiting for the moment to happen, and he helped us transfigure goalposts on the pitch. The Ravenclaws had picked the blue and white away Manchester United jersey, we stuck with the Arsenal one.

And the game began, and we played. We had to. We never knew what time she could return. We took it carefully and deliberately, adopting the tika-taka style perfected by Barcelona in the early 2010s during the peak eras of Xavi and Iniesta. The back and forth constant passing wasn't perfect, after all, we'd only had a week's of hard training, but it was a damn sight better than the brawl that Hooch had cut short earlier. We even knocked up a fifteen-pass move before one particular goal.

And then there was Renée, who was playing like a girl inspired. She flicked the ball over my head so Alfie latched onto it – she had ended up on his team this time, taken it through two defenders by putting the ball through the legs of the first and then exchanging a rapid two-touch pass with Cho. She took the ball back under her control and passed it out wide to another Hufflepuff, whose name on the back of his shirt informed us that his surname was Adams, and he provided a pitch-perfect delivery for Renée to perform a bicycle kick that would see the ball end up in the back of the net.

Even the opposition felt like cheering her. And what made things sweeter was that both Hooch and Dumbledore had seen the whole thing, they'd seen the joy light up on our faces, and they'd seen the team-effort that led to the enthusiastic (perhaps overly so) celebration.

And for the first time since I'd met the Professor, I was convinced that she would change her mind.


	10. I Had A Talk

**The Fire Waltz Chapter 10: I Had A Talk**

 **I.**

Dumbledore's Office was glamorous and inviting. Still clad in our football jerseys, myself, Cho and Alfie were sat in front of him at 11:30 am. The Old Man looked at us, and offered, "Would you care for a Sherbet Lemon? I must admit, I'm rather enjoying these sweets. I know they're bad for the tongue, but I think we can all indulge in one guilty pleasure every once in a while."

Alfie and I took the sweet that was presented to us (sure, there was fanfics out there about Dumbledore lacing Sherbet Lemons with truth potions, but this wasn't a fanfiction as far as I was aware). He said to me, "I must applaud the team-work involved in the nature of your sport. I'll admit, I was wrong, I wasn't entirely sure a new sport could be introduced at Hogwarts."

"Neither would those who created Rugby," I said, chiming in, and then added, "The sport was derived from football. A pupil at Rugby School called William Webb Ellis was involved in a football match. Of course, you can't pick up the ball and run with it in football. So naturally, one day, he decided to pick up the ball and run with it. And thus, the sport of Rugby was born."

Dumbledore looked at me. His expressions were calm, betraying no sense of emotion. I sensed how The Old Man commanded so much respect, how he was on another level from pretty much everyone in the entire wizarding world. "Very well," said the Headmaster after a pause. "I will have to discuss this with Madam Hooch, but I will do my best to try and work in football as a new sport at Hogwarts. I do not know if we will be able to get it onto the curriculum, it will be rather hard to find someone who has graduated from Hogwarts who has experience playing or teaching the sport. But as a student organized tournament? That might be possible. I know plenty of muggleborns in the older years who would be open to such an idea. Our own Head Boy, Aaron Smith, of Gryffindor House, tried to get something started in the past but has never been able to break tradition. I will sure to notify him of the good news."

I looked at Alfie, who shared that same excited look. "It will have to be held on weekends for now," said Dumbledore. "And I request that you at least attend Quidditch practises to watch if not to participate, I know you are afraid of heights. But trust me, the school-issued broomsticks are designed to prevent major falls, even from hits with bludgers. And training is perfectly safe…"

"Training is perfectly safe?" I couldn't help myself, and I slipped up a bit. "In Harry Potter's fit year, in his very first training session, Neville Longbottom ended up in the Hospital Wing!"

I realised what I'd said too late, but for some reason, Dumbledore feel alarmed by the situation. Neither did Cho or Alfie. Instead, he said, "I understand your concerns about there not being any safety protection in sight, but just because you do not see something does not mean that there is something there."

I had a theory developing in my mind, so I tried to test it as bluntly as I possibly could, "In a few years, Snape kills you and you die falling off a tower."

"Thank you for informing me about your fear of heights," said Dumbledore. "But I must insist - it is perfectly safe. And even if the worse comes to worse, Madam Pomfrey will have you healed and ready to go in hardly any time at all."

That was hardly comforting, but it also meant that I had hit a major roadblock. I couldn't tell Dumbledore about what happened in the books, and if I couldn't tell Dumbledore about what happened in the books then I couldn't tell anyone. Just to be on the safe side, I turned to Alfie and said in a whisper, "Psst. Snape kills Dumbledore."

Alfie rolled his eyes. "Dude. Look. They got this covered. You don't have to worry, you got this, right?

I couldn't help but groan. I got to play football, but I had hoped to play football instead of Quidditch. I guess it was more than whatever I could have hoped for at all, with my expectations going into the meeting with Dumbledore fully in the mind of getting nothing more than an extended detention and a slap on the wrist and told to be on my way. But if anything, the creation of a football society was something, if it stuck around in Harry's year, was proof that actions that I could take would have knock on effects on the books. It would certainly be a coup if I could convince Harry to end up playing football instead of Quidditch, but at what cost would that effect? I had to be careful. I was living a real life here, not a make believe one.

My actions had honest-to-god consequences. Every time I interacted with a canon character, I had to tread carefully. Interactions with people like Alfie and Professor Torrance were fine, I never recalled seeing their names crop up in the books. Which begged the question, what happened to them in the next seven years that I would remain at Hogwarts for? And given that Professor Torrance was only at Hogwarts for one year, what would happen to him?

By the time our meeting with Dumbledore had finished it meant that we couldn't re-join the Quidditch/Football Lesson, so instead I decided to make my way to Defence Against the Dark Arts early. "I think that went well," I said, as we left, and told them about my plan.

"That seems like a good idea," said Cho. "I'm going to head to Herbology. I've got it with the Slytherins. Unfortunately."

"Well that should be fun," I said, and she nodded.

"I'll trade, the Gryffindors aren't that bad. The Slytherins are acting like they've won the House Cup and the Quidditch Tournament already."

"I'm alright, thanks," I said. "Plus, there's one thing that they won't be able to win this year."

"What's that?"

"Football. No self-respecting Slytherin is going to take part in a muggle game," I said. "But that's not the point. We're not going to organize the tournament by houses. It's going to be by different teams, starting off with four. If we get enough people to join we can even do it by years."

"I like your optimism," said Cho. "But believe me, I'm not entirely sure we'll get enough interest. From my experience, most of our kind doesn't like change."

I shared that particular experience, it seemed.

As Alfie had elected not to follow me to Defence Against the Dark Arts early, I found myself alone, even beating Professor Torrance to the classroom as evidently, he had a free period from 9-10. I was doubtful that Professor Torrance would show up again given that the last lesson that we had was taught by Professor Callahan, the Irish substitute teacher, but it gave me a chance to look around his classroom, which had been moved from the room that used to belong to Professor Mallory.

The classroom was empty and was not unlike the more traditional room that was used for lessons, which was partly why I was so startled when I saw two little girls in blue dresses standing across from me. They couldn't have been more than eight years old, and they looked virtually identical. Something was seriously _off_ about this, yet for some reason, it couldn't shake off that familiar feeling like I had seen all of this before. But where? It was bugging me. Like, really bugging me. "Are you girls okay?" I couldn't help but ask, cautiously.

"Come and play with us, Danny," the girls said, hauntingly, before turning to run. "Come and play with us, Danny."

 _Who was Danny?_ They turned, and ran, and I followed them down the classroom. It didn't take me long to realise that they ran on some kind of hologram on a loop when they disappeared and reappeared in the same place, or at least some kind of magical version, and quickly pulled a lever that switched it off, wondering why Professor Torrance would leave something like that out there in the open just before a lesson. Was it some kind of defence? To stop people from entering his classroom? I felt the hairs on the back of my neck had gone down again.

I advanced towards the desk, and found a photograph waiting there for me, carefully balanced. It was an old-timey black and white style photograph, and a muggle one that resembled more of a portrait. Set in a ballroom in 1921, the photograph played host to a whole gathering of men and woman dressed up for a formal event. There was some writing on it, faded with the passing of time, but one man caught my eye right in the centre, one man who looked very familiar, like a younger version of Professor Torrance. I had described him as a man who looked like an older version of 80s Jack Nicholson, so maybe this _was_ 80s Jack Nicholson? Was Professor Torrance somehow related to the celebrity? This was where Google would come in handy, but it was 1990, it was Hogwarts, and I was out of luck.

And also out of time. A man approached me from behind, and I turned to find out that Professor Torrance was not in fact standing next to me. Instead, it was Professor Callahan, who looked tired and weary. "G'morning, Mr. Kennedy. Did I startle you with the projections?"

"You did, Sir. What are they?"

Professor Callahan said in his thick Irish brogue, "They are leftover from Professor Torrance. He had to leave on such a short notice and he asked me to take a look at the Overlook Hotel case. Those two girls were earlier victims of the Hotel, you know. According to the survivor, a muggle named Danny, he saw them."

"This guy in the photograph looks awfully like Jack Nicholson."

"Yes, I remember reading up on this," said Professor Callahan. "In the muggle media, apparently the horrors of the Overlook Hotel were to be adapted into a true-story inspired movie retelling from director Stanley Kubrick. You may have heard of him."

"Yeah, he's one of my favourites," I said. " _Dr. Strangelove_ is a masterpiece."

"I'm more of a fan of A Clockwork Orange, myself," said Professor Callahan, thankfully taking no notice that an eleven-year-old had been able to sit through _Dr. Strangelove._ Good job I mentioned that and not _A Clockwork Orange._ "But the director decided to make something about World War Two and the muggle Holocaust instead. I believe it was called the _Aryan Papers_? It was nominated for an Oscar that year."

"What year?"

"1980. I still thing _Raging Bull_ should have beaten it though," said Professor Callahan. "Dear god, that was a good film. Probably my favourite Scorsese yet. But enough about films. He's been trying to find an explanation as to why his cousin lost his mind. These are bits he's been able to salvage or reconstruct, remarkably, the photograph survived intact. I was asked to step in, but I'm really not having any luck so far. It's unexplainable what happened, it really is."

"Maybe the simplest answer is often the correct one?" I offered. "He could have just lost his mind."

 **II.**

After a long day of working, Professor Callahan found himself returning to the incident where the young girl had been found. The old classroom had been sealed off but not for a Professor, so he quickly unlocked the door and made his way inside, heading down the trap door to look at the cage to determine what he could find. Professor Torrance had gone to try and find some cure for the poor boy in the hospital, whose condition was only worsening, but that didn't mean that the mystery of the girl could go unanswered. It would be a good career boost, Callahan believed, he didn't plan to stay at Hogwarts long after all. Why waste time as a cover teacher when you could be out there exploring the world? 

It was at least a step up from the school in Cork, _dear god_ , he thought, reflecting on past schools as he made his way down and came face to face with the cage. _That place was a shithole_. The Cage itself wasn't anything more glamorous than what he had been told, it was run down, derelict and ancient. Bars prevented anyone from getting in or out without a key to a door, and there was no key anywhere. He didn't need one, and cast _alohomora_ on the door. It swung open.

He stepped inside, and saw a piece of paper on the floor that Professor Torrance had somehow missed. It had been just out of the corner of his eye. He picked it up and observed what looked like a little girl's handwriting, and it was a diary entry. On it, contained a date marked _September 3 1971._

He read the page. For a little girl's handwriting, it was remarkably neat and well-read. " _Dear Father. I don't know if I'm ever going to get out of here. Help me, Father, please. He has me in a locked room. He's an evil man. I get meals and am well fed and he reads me novels from time to time, but that is all. It is merely a façade. We just finished Moby Dick and are about to read Treasure Island._

 _I am writing down my words because I am starting to forget who I am. I have already forgotten my name. I have forgotten Mother; how could I have forgotten Mother? Help me, Father, please. I hear him coming now… he tells me stories of people who I am to meet. He tells me of these great plans. They are horrible, too horrible to write down. I fear this will be my final entry."_

And then, one final sentence that was perhaps the most interesting of them all. " _And If one day I ever meet this Robin Kennedy, I want to ask him why."_


	11. All Work And No Play

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Eleven: All Work and No Play…**

I.

Seasons changed, and Halloween came around far quicker than I anticipated. October 31 was a fun and festive affair at Hogwarts, somewhat marred by the fact that next year it would become an annual disturbance of the peace. As this would be the last Halloween that I would get to enjoy the fun, I decided to make the most out of it and wear a costume for the day, borrowing the idea from some older muggleborns who wanted to reintroduce a lost tradition under the pretense that it was an old magical one rather than a muggle one. The idea was to get as many of the students on board as possible, so I passed the suggestions up to the more influential Hufflepuff seventh years who were able to get the idea spread around, and once it did, it spread like wildfire, especially among the muggleborns who proved to be the driving force again.

It was refreshing not to see the same monotone uniform amongst the students, and even more interesting to see the creative costumes. No student with the first name of Luke was safe this Halloween, there were at least five Darth Vaders walking around and making sure the Lukes were aware that he was their father, prompting much confusions among the purebloods. Among the older years, there were classic horror villains like Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Hannibal Lecter (even though _The Silence of the Lambs_ would not come out until next year, that didn't escape the surprising popularity of Michael Mann's _Manhunter_ among the older muggleborns). Journey beyond that and you had the heroes. James Bonds, Indiana Jones, Luke Skywalkers, you name it. The purebloods were confused by the amount of characters that were wondering their halls but they paid them no mind, eventually taking up guises of several fantasy creatures like mermaids, dragons and more once they got the idea of the event.

And I found myself outside Professor Torrance's classroom alone once again, and he had left to explore the halls of Hogwarts once more. A few more students had turned up in the Hospital Wing with "The Sickness" as it had come to be known amongst the student body, but Halloween served as a welcome distraction. The Defence teacher was no closer to the cure, and was frequently absent from his lessons. It felt like Dumbledore was merely employing him to solve the mystery now, as a hired Private Investigator. Yet something about Professor Torrance couldn't help but feel _odd._ Everything that he had brought to Hogwarts, his odd disappearances, his lack of progress in the investigation, beer bottles found in his office by students who had detention with Professor Callahan that were from America, and above all, all the items from the Overlook Hotel that he had been bringing into his room gave it a haunting feel to it to the point where it was almost a direct replica. Paintings had been procured, paintings that had been sold from before the fire burnt down, placed on the wall around the room. The photograph with Jack Nicholson from 1921 had found its way into a frame, and it was downright unsettling.

And then there was news about his daughter. I don't know who told me, but apparently the gossip papers had brought up that she had changed her first name to Jackie. Like the man who had gone mad. Jack Torrance. What kind of person did that? I made a careful note to watch myself whenever I was in the room. But I couldn't help but allow curiosity to get the better of me when I looked at what was at the desk, a type-writer from a bye-gone era. The type-writer faced opposite me, so I went up to it and found next to the desk there was a message written in the text.

" _All Work and No Play Make Jack A Dull Boy…"_

It was repeated over and over again. Every word, every sentence, was capitalised, apart from the ands.

" _All Work and No Play Make Jack A Dull Boy…_ " _"All Work and No Play Make Jack A Dull Boy…""All Work and No Play Make Jack A Dull Boy…" "All Work and No Play Make Jack A Dull Boy…" "All Work and No Play Make Jack A Dull Boy…" "All Work and No Play Make Jack A Dull Boy…"_

All Work and No Play Make Jack a Dull Boy.

"Interesting, isn't it?" said a voice from behind me. It was Professor Torrance, he was back, looking world-weary and tired. "I tracked down Danny, you know. The survivor. He told me about the incident at the Hotel and the writings that his father wrote. He was supposed to be working on a novel, yet…"

"He wrote this instead," I finished, looking up at him.

"I'm trying to replicate the causes that led to him going mad, to find out if it was a natural condition or not," said Professor Torrance. "If I don't end up going mad, then we'll know it wasn't done through a natural cause and there was something influencing the hotel. If I do, then, well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

Okay, he was not normal. That was one creative way of trying to solve a problem, though, I'll give him that. "Any luck so far?" I asked.

"Well, no," said Professor Torrance, frustrated. "That was the final thing that he wrote before his wife discovered him. He took an axe and started hunting her down after that. Like a madman. It saddens me. I never would have thought that Jack would be the sort of person to try anything like this, he was a great man. A good writer too. Gifted, talented. He could have been the next big thing had he put his mind to it. I supposed he thought being isolated at the hotel would help him write."

"If this is the final thing that he wrote," I said. "It means that you're not mad, right? I mean, you don't have an axe."

"No. I do not," said Professor Torrance, somewhat relieved as though he needed to be told it to confirm. "Therefore, I must conclude that my cousin's insanity was the cause of something magical. But what. No Dementors have been present in that region of America since the Second World War. There isn't a known wizarding hotspot for miles. What would any wizard want to do with my cousin?"

"I heard he was an author. Maybe they didn't like his books? Maybe he killed off a favourite character or something?" I half suggested, and Professor Torrance couldn't help but laugh at that as well, a short and sharp bark.

"Didn't like his books," he said, cheerfully. "I needed that. Five points to Hufflepuff. That's a good one. Now, run along. Class is about to start. Oh by the way, I'm liking the outfit choice. Marty McFly, _Back to the Future_?"

I know it was a bit on the nose, but why not?

II.

We were making our way down to the Great Hall for dinner when we realised that Renée wasn't with us. "She should be here by now," said Katie. "I'm worried. Where is she?"

"I don't see her in the hall," said Alfie.

"We should go and look for her," I suggested.

"Yeah, I'll take the Owlery, and you guys can pick and choose where you think she might be," said Katie. "I need to send a message anyway, and I know how much you're afraid of heights, Robin."

"Yeah, it's probably not a good idea to send him that high up," said Alfie. "He gets worried when he's in the window seat in a fifth-floor classroom."

"I do not."

"I've seen you look anxiously towards the door multiple times, you clearly do."

"Shut up," I said, and that was the end of that, or at least, as far as I was concerned.

"Look," Cho said. She was wearing the mask of a Raven, opting like most from magical backgrounds, for their own House animals. Katie had turned up dressed as a Quidditch Player, which was easy enough, and Alfie looked almost out of place in his Joker costume. "Why don't we just have food and then she can come and join us later?"

"It's her first Halloween that she can remember," said Alfie. "We want to make sure that it's a good one."

"You lot are insufferable. She's eleven. She's been up and walking around since September. She knows pretty much every inch of Hogwarts by now. She'll be fine."

"We'll all go looking together," offered up Alfie with a sigh. "If she's not at the first few places that we go and look at, we'll go and wait for her in the Great Hall. Come on, it's almost dinner and I'm _starving_."

"That sounds fair, come on, Cho. She'd want to do the same if you were missing," I said.

"Would she though?" Cho asked, but didn't offer any objections. "We barely know her. If the rumours are true about her being locked up in a hole for Merlin knows how long, then if I were you, I'd be worried about who we've just become friends with."

They had made a public decision to keep Renée's identity secret, but that hadn't stopped the rumour mill around Hogwarts from spreading wildfire. Some were more outlandish than others but one thing that was universally agreed on was that she had no memories of her life before Hogwarts. Which meant questions were often prodded at her, and I was worried that if she was left alone long enough, something might happen that none of her friends would be able to stop. An over-zealous bully. A trick or a trap-door that she didn't know how to get out of. The Weasley Twins, who mercifully, we'd stayed clear of now, but they were an unpredictable force that could not be reasoned with, bargained with or interfered with. If they wanted someone teased, they were going to be the ones to do it and they were going to do it properly.

She was not in her old room, and neither was she in the common room. Cho was on the verge of giving up, but we found her in the end on top of the Owlery, a place where I'd never been up till now, gazing out to watch the sunset. I was torn between going up there to approach her, but decided to advance halfway up the steps where I could see where she was visible, wearing a white dress. She saw me coming when I shouted her name. "Renée! Are you alright?"

She didn't say anything, but ran towards me. I noticed she was still wearing gloves, even though she didn't have any sleeves. It was like she was afraid of touching someone with her bare hands. "I'm fine," she said. "It doesn't look like anything's wrong with me. Why are you here?"

"We've come to get you. We didn't want you to miss out on the Halloween Feast," I said.

"The Halloween Feast? Is it that time already, I must have forgotten."

She looked like she was fine, and acted like it too. This was normal Renée-speak, as far as I was concerned, after all, she'd learned it from Professor Mallory and apparently, a bunch of old classics from literature. _Moby Dick, Treasure Island,_ you name it.

"Well given the time we spent looking for you, and the time that it takes to get back down there, they'll probably already be on desserts," I said, still keeping myself just inside. "But don't worry! I have an idea. I just need you to come down first…"

"One of these days, you'll have to face your fear," said Renée, as though it was a promise. But she climbed down, and rejoined those of us who were waiting below the Owlery.

"So what was this glorious idea of yours?" Cho couldn't help but ask me. "I'm about to miss my first Halloween feast at Hogwarts and I entirely blame it on you."

"Well, the Hufflepuff Common Room is right near the Kitchens," I said, and I watched her eyes widen in surprise. "Yeah, it's pretty cool."

"So that's why I never see you at breakfast," Cho said.

"Breakfast is only worth going to on New Timetable Day," said Alfie, his stomach rumbling. "I can't believe you've never been to the Kitchens before, Renée."

"I just thought breakfast was a social thing that everybody attended," she said, and then added, "Apparently not."

"Well then," I said. "Allons-y."

"What does that even mean?" Alfie said.

"You don't speak French?" Cho said, looking down at him disapprovingly. "It means _let's go._ "

"You could have just said, _let's go,_ " Katie had looked confused as Alfie but I noticed she didn't say anything. Alfie meanwhile was grumbling, and decided to dig himself in a deeper hole.

 **II.** **  
**  
Marty McFly, A Raven, A Quidditch Player and The Joker walked with The Woman in White – for that was what we gave a name to Renée's costume after deciding that she must have dressed up in something, and she had read a book called _The Woman in White_ after all – although nobody had any idea what its subject matter was about, least of all Renée herself, and it wasn't before long that we arrived in at the Kitchen. As expected, the House Elves, although already tired, were all-too eager to please, and whilst I thought about bringing it up with Dumbledore the legality of slavery of the House Elves, but decided to leave that task to Hermione Granger in her fourth year. Instead, the House Elves led us around the room and piled up our plates with whatever we could think of, I helped myself to a couple of slices of Pizza and some chicken wraps, Alfie to some fish and chips, Cho to a roast dinner and Renée took whatever she could get her hands on that looked new and exciting. Between everyone getting their food and Katie helping herself to some Chinese, I hadn't even noticed that one of the over eager House-Elves had accidentally brushed against Renée's skin during the making of the food. It walked off in a daze.

We ate our food by the lake of course, which had turned into our natural spot in the few weeks before the temperature would properly drop and render outdoors eating difficult without some kind of heating spells. There were already chances of snow on the way, and I had to remember we were in the Scottish Highlands, not Islington or Upton Park. "There, look, I swear, I definitely swore something move that time! For real," Katie had said, trying to convince us all of the Squid's existence. The others were doubtful so although I knew it was there, I decided to play along as I sensed some of the others were doing.

"No, that must have been a trick of the light," I said, and she threw one of her chopsticks at me in frustration. I laughed as I caught it. "There's no such thing as a Giant Squid."

"You bet there is," Katie said. "And I'm going to prove it to you."

I don't know how it happened, but what started as a simple throwing of chopsticks turned into a full-scale food fight, with us throwing bits of leftover food at each other by the lake. During the incident, my hands brushed against Katie's, and as I knew she was one of the survivors of The Second War, I had presumed that I would be safe.

Yet something that I had done in the past few months since arriving in this universe had changed her fate. Because now I saw a vision. A different one to that of Burbage's. It didn't show her death, but rather, what came next. Me, Alfie, Cho and Renée were standing around her gravestone at the top of a hill, and for some reason, Kingsley Shacklebolt was there too. It wasn't the subtlest of visions, but then again, they never were.

I recoiled away from her in shock. Katie Bell was going to die, and it had somehow been my fault.

 _("My heart flies  
With the nightingale  
Through the night  
All across the world._

 _I long to see you_  
 _To touch you_  
 _To love you_  
 _Forever more.")_


	12. The Last Train

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twelve: The Last Train**

 **I.**

It was time to hit the books, and hit the books hard. I had to be ready. I couldn't have someone's death be on me as a result of me ending up in this timeline, and it _had to be on me,_ because she was a character who wasn't specified as dying in the books, so therefore if whatever I saw held true, and I knew it did because my visions had showed Burbage getting eaten by Nagini when she had been eaten by Nagini in the books, Katie's funeral was an ill omen. Sure, there could be the fact that given that we didn't actually see her body she wasn't actually dead, but if her gravestone isn't a tell-tale sign of her being dead, then I don't know what is. I wasn't about to take any chances.

First, I had to find out everything that I could about my power, its unexplained nature in the wizarding world. I spent hours devouring the library books, picking up useful material along the way as the months passed, and the snow fell on the ground. Winter break was merely a few days away. I spent so much time absorbed in books that I regularly forgot to attend social events, became isolated from my friends, and if I was older and past puberty, I probably would have a lengthy, Dumbledore-esqeue beard by now. "Young Mr. Snyder is here to see you, Mr. Kennedy," said the Librarian, who upon seeing how much time I spent in the library, was more than happy to assign me a private room. "Should I send him in?"

"No thank you," I said. I know I was being mean, but at the end of the day, the research had another purpose too. I'd spent months in a world that was not my own now and the longer I stayed in it, the less chance I had of getting back to my own. The novelty of being in the Harry Potter world had faded, as did being stuck in the past. I began to develop a sense of homesickness and longing for the comforts of my home and I wanted to return. The isolationism spread into lessons too, when I was confronted by Katie one afternoon during Defence Against the Dark Arts when we were partnering up.

"Merlin, Robin, what's gotten into you lately? Every time you look at me you look as though you've seen a ghost," she said. "Did I do anything wrong?"

"No," I said. "You didn't. It's just… Can we just get on with the subject, okay?"

And that was the end of that, as far as I was concerned. When my room in the library became disturbed to the point of constant interruptions, I should have gotten the point that I was being too damn isolationist and needed to hang out with my friends. But there was no answer, no answer to the riddle that solved my way home, no answer to solve how I could save my friend.

I did find something in one of the books, something that I'd foolishly overlooked, in _Hogwarts a History_ of all things, which just proves how little people actually pay attention to it because they assume they'll find out all the stuff they need to know about Hogwarts themselves, including the Ravenclaws. It's kind of a beginner's tool book that no self-respecting, arrogant witch or wizard would even think to bother with. There are rumours of a hidden room in Hogwarts that grants knowledge and power to those who know how to use it, but few know of its existence, and in that room, I was certain to find what I was looking for. Snow battered down the windows as I made way through the thick winter, for it was now winter, to the seventh floor. How could I possibly have forgotten about the Room of Requirement? It seemed like the perfect answer to all my problems. It might even be powerful enough to give me a route back to my home dimension and return me back to my body. I remembered it being next to some tapestry and it didn't take me long to find out which one it was, the one that belonged to Barnabas the Barmy, and I began to walk past it back and forth three times.

 _I want to go home,_ I thought. _I want to return to my body. I want to escape this place so I can't harm anyone anymore._

Eventually, after three times I walked past, a door appeared with a key. Eagerly, I opened it, not sure what I was expecting but probably something different than what I got. A Red Room, with black-and-white chequered floors, stood there to greet me, and the Red curtains gave it a haunting, dreamlike feature. To top it all off, as I was walking through the room, music began to play, a female singer, who sounded not unlike the one at the Leaky Cauldron.

 _"(Don't let yourself be hurt this time._

 _Don't let yourself be hurt this time._

 _Then I saw your face._

 _Then I saw your smile.)"_

What the hell was this? It looked like someone was playing tricks on me. The Red Room provided even less answers. Frustrated, I pulled down the curtains in anger, yanking them to the floor. It seemed like they went on forever, and each time I pulled them down, they disappeared and were replaced by new ones. I never found a way to the other side, it was like an endless loop that just refused to end.

It reminded me of a dream. Like it was an endless dream. That I couldn't escape from. All the while, the song was playing and the lyrics continued apace. I had long since lost sight of the door, and I wondered, if I was now trapped in a maze from which I would never return from. So I tried instead to wish for something simpler than a passage home, remembering that the room couldn't do food or living things, I asked for a book on what was wrong with me. And it wasn't before long I found a copy of something, written by a wizard named Richard Bachman. It was called _The Shine. (Or: Congratulations, you have a gift and a curse. Here's how you use it._ )

I asked for a chair, and the room gave me a chair to read on. I opened a few pages gingerly, and it sounded like an instruction manual that didn't actually give me any answers. _The Shine_ told me that I had powers that could predict the future, but Bachman sounded like Lockhart was going to sound, someone who was making stuff up as he went along and possibly stealing from others ideas, I recognised that his writing reminded me of someone but I could not recall whom. Maybe he was writing under a penname? Or maybe in this reality, Bachman _was_ the name of the famous author? Bachman seemed more interested in recounting stories he'd met from people who could possibly have The Shine, to the point where it was getting frustrating with no real answer. At least I had a name for my power, The Shine. It felt good to have it concrete and absolute. And know that I wasn't going crazy. This was a genuine thing, people actually suffered from it.

Part of me was relieved. The incidents had luckily been few and far between and I wondered what would happen if I told someone they were going to die because I'd seen their deaths as a result of The Shine, would they go through? Or would it happen the same way as how Dumbledore died? Needless to say, I was suddenly feeling really lonely, and had the overwhelming urge to hug someone.

What? Where had that instinct come from? Sure, I'd shied away from physical contact for months, but I'd still been around people. I hadn't been isolating myself. I asked for a calendar, as I'd forgotten the date, and had a strong, overwhelming urge to see people again. Reconnect with my friends. Apologise for all the misdeeds that I'd done. The one flood of emotions spiralled out of control, and I realised what I'd done, what an idiot I'd been.

I shouldn't have pushed them away. The train left at 10am, and if I still had time, I could make it. I needed a way to the train station. In the Room of Requirement, a passageway formed for me, taking me down a long secret passage that went a ridiculously long way before eventually emerging in the back of a room. I stepped out of the back room and into a perfectly ordinary Public Toilets, thankfully empty. I went out through the door and found myself having to cover my eyes to stop the snow from getting in them. It was a thick blizzard, and through the blizzard, I could just make out some train lights in the distance. A loud horn was blaring, and I could just about make out the sounds of the Hogwarts express bursting into life.

I was too late. I tried to run, but ended up slipping and falling in the thick snow that had seemingly come out of nowhere. I tried to fight my way through the blizzard, but I was shivering and cold, and by the time I reached the end of the platform, the train had already left for London, leaving me alone. I sunk to my knees, letting the snow take me.

Where had this blizzard come from? It felt like the worst blizzard that I had ever experienced in my life. I'm pretty sure the temperatures were in the negatives, so it was no surprise that by the time I eventually found myself back in the Room of Requirement, it provided me with heat and warmth that got me ready to go in no time, as well as various books about heating charms. The Red Room was gone, I noticed, replaced by the comfort of my apartment at home.

It had retained every detail, every book on the shelves. Despite not existing in 1990 there was a PlayStation 4 console in my bedroom waiting for me, complete with the posters of The Killers, _Inside Llewyn Davis_ and _Interstellar,_ my two favourite movies that would not be out for a while yet. The PlayStation 4 games that came with it were all the ones that I owned too, the _Assassin's Creed_ games, _Horizon: Zero Dawn, FIFA 18, God of War…_ but none could be used. The equipment just simply didn't work, no matter how accurate the box design was. It was merely a replica of my room. My laptop didn't work, too. I wanted to know how The Room had managed it, to create a portal to the future in near-perfect detail.

I noticed the door back to Hogwarts was present, so I tried to test and take my copy of _Horizon_ – or rather, the Room's copy, out of the room. But I couldn't get further than a few steps within the walls of Hogwarts before it disintegrated in my hands, leaving me with a very clear message. _What comes from the future stays in the room._

That was fine with me! I decided to head back down to the Great Hall, and I was wondering who would have stayed behind over Christmas, and it turned out that there was only one person in the room. One person there. Out of the entire school. It was Professor Callahan. "My boy! I thought you were on the train," he said. "What are you doing back here? You must be the only student staying over Christmas who isn't in the Hospital Wing."

I blinked. "I haven't been keeping up with the Hogwarts rumour mill. What's up with the people in the Hospital Wing?"

"Didn't you hear?" Professor Callahan said. "Half the school has been taken sick. Food poisoning, apparently. Some Elf went insane and poisoned the food and it apparently escaped detection. So, as a result, even the teachers have decided to go home. Even Dumbledore has decided to take a leave of absence in a bid to find out what's going on, visiting some Doctors in Istanbul, I believe. Only myself, Professor Torrance, Hagrid, Fang and Madam Pomfrey are still here. You must have somehow missed the train…"

No, no, no. So much for my plan to apologize to Katie, Alfie, Cho and Renée. I would be alone for the winter months. I noticed something was wrong about Professor Callahan. He looked as though he'd been drinking himself, and was distinctively tired from a lack of sleep. Was he hungover? Had he already been drinking in the morning?

Christmas decorations were up around the school. With the thickness provided by the winter snow, even Hagrid had been forced to evacuate and reside in the castle. It was the coldest winter that I'd ever experienced and It had all seemingly come out nowhere, like with all the students either gone or ill, and I worried for the animals that were forced to reside in the Forbidden Forest. Obviously, lessons weren't on, so I was able to roam around the castle and think about my actions, what I'd just done. Would I have friends after the Christmas break? It seemed unlikely.

I headed to the Hospital Wing to find out whether any of my friends were among the students who were sick, but thankfully, according to Madam Pomfrey, none of them were. Hagrid had just finished delivering some food supplies from the kitchen in the event that the people with what had become known as The Sickness did wake up, so he was leaving.

In his accent, he said, "I thought all of the students had left?"

I said honestly, "I've got no home to go back to."

He apologised. "Well if yeh ever find yourself in need of company, my door's always open. Fang don't bite, either. Sure, he's got a bark. But that's all."

I knelt down and pet the dog. Welcoming the attention, Fang barked his approval. And I began to think that maybe the next month or so wouldn't be too bad at Hogwarts after all.


	13. Paint it Black

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Thirteen: Paint it Black**

We made our way back to Professor Torrance's classroom in relative silence, walking through the school corridors as suspicions began to form in my mind. He hadn't been clear what he wanted with me. He was being deliberately ambiguous, not telling me any further things. Sure, he may have apparently replicated the same conditions of his cousin and not gone mad, but what kind of person tries to replicate the conditions that led to someone turning mad in the first place? It seemed like madness in its own right. And between this and the constant absences from work, the fact that he had showed up to food at the table and eaten from Hogwarts meals and not gotten The Sickness like everyone else… it had to be a red flag, right? Like a big Red Flag. With a capital R and a capital F. Warning lights were flashing, so just to be sure, I brought my wand to the ready in my left hand, just out of eyeshot from the man. I wasn't sure what I could do against a fully trained Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, but now would probably be a good time to practise all those spells that I'd come across in my time pouring over books.

If I had a chance of getting out of here, it was either down to one of two things. Either I was completely wrong and had misjudged Professor Torrance (which I really hoped was true), or he had misjudged me, as a normal eleven-year-old. I was Aaron Hughes. Not Robin Kennedy. Robin Kennedy might be a normal eleven-year-old (who just so happened to have The Shine), but I was a sixteen-year-old. It still didn't make much difference in the overall scheme of things as I was still about to deal with someone who would be superior to me even if I was actually sixteen, even if I had progressed through Hogwarts the first time around.

"Almost there," said Professor Torrance. "I just want to ask you a few questions, Robin. Nothing more than that, you understand? You're not in trouble, or anything like that. In fact, it's better than that, you're helping me with something very important."

"Sir, why couldn't you just ask me the questions on the way here? It's not like there's anyone who can hear us, after all," I said, wondering if he had actually suspected me of poisoning the students. I, like him, hadn't gone home, and hadn't fallen ill yet despite eating the food. "Unless you're worried about the paintings hearing us."

"No, I'm not worried about that. There are paintings in my room, you know," He chuckled, opening the door to the room. He walked inside, and I noticed that he stopped a few yards behind me, and I felt a sickening feeling once I heard the door shut behind me, and before I could do anything, he disarmed me with a quick _Expelliarmus_ seconds before I had planned to act with one of my own,followed by a _Colloportus_ to lock the door. "But the paintings in my room only answer to me. Can't have any going off to tell Albus Dumbledore when he returns, can we? For some reason I don't think he'd be too happy about this."

I tried to go for my wand, but Professor Torrance pointed his wand at me. "This could get a lot worse before it gets better, kid. It'll get a lot better quickly if you help me. Trust me, I want you to be innocent as much as the next person. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you a few questions."

"How about a question for a question?" I said. "Is that how this works?"

"No," said Professor Torrance. "I do the questioning here. But I'm going to humour you if it means you co-operate. What question did you want to ask?"

"At what point did you realise that you've gone completely mad? Or do you still not know yet?"

He laughed. "That's not what's happening here, kid. I'm in perfect control of who I am. But you on the other hand… just wasted a question. My turn. Why did you poison the school?"

"I didn't," I said, protesting my innocence like my life depended on it, because let's be honest, it probably did. "I honestly didn't."

"I asked the House Elves to do a tally of who spends their time in the Kitchen the most," said Professor Torrance. "You spend an awful amount of time in the kitchen in the mornings."

"After the main body of the school is already down having breakfast," I said. "I prefer to have a lie in when I can take it. Plus, Hufflepuff common room is closer to the Kitchens then it is to the Great Hall. Why take that extra effort?"

"To poison the students." said Professor Torrance. "And I'm going to take that as a question. Next one. What are your motives for poisoning the students?"

"I didn't poison them!" I said, again. I was growing increasingly frustrated with him. "Look, I don't know why I haven't been caught ill, but the same could be said for you and Hagrid and Madam Pomfrey and Professor Callahan. Just because we don't get ill doesn't mean that we didn't do the poisoning."

"Actually, it does," said Professor Torrance. "I can think of good reasons why everyone else was immune to the poisoning… I myself, have always eaten from a supply from my own personal food supply. I'm a Vegan you see, could never stomach the taste for meat. And I don't think Hogwarts' House Elves, as great are, know how to properly prepare food for Vegans. So I have a specially trained Elf work separately from the main group to give me my food each day. And now, Hagrid is an easy example. Not only does he bake his own food, but he's also half-giant. The poison doesn't have the same kind of effect on him. Next up, Madam Pomfrey. Her job requires to be in the Hospital Wing on a near daily basis, so she has her own food supply, again, not coming directly from the Kitchens, and prepared at different hours. Have you seen the number of students that end up in there before breakfast, especially over weekends and among the older years, hungover and drunk?"

"That still leaves Professor Callahan."

"Yes, it does," said Professor Torrance, pausing for a bit. "Now, come to think of it…"

I sighed. "Don't tell me…"

"I haven't actually been able to think of a logical reason why Professor Callahan would be immune to the Sickness," he said, a panicked expression on his face. "Other than if you poison the students…"

"Why would you want to poison yourself as well?" I came to the same conclusion as he did. "But shouldn't we check if Professor Callahan is okay, first? He wasn't at breakfast…"

"That's a good idea," said Professor Torrance. "You wait here. I'm going to leave the door locked, but if you want to prove your innocence, not running will go a long way to do so."

I threw up my hands in the air in defeat. "Oh," he said. "And I'm going to take your wand. Wouldn't want to have you escaping just as a precaution, would we?"

He already had my wand, so there wasn't much he could do about that. He made his way out the door, making sure to lock it directly behind him. It was only once he had gone that I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and realised that somebody had been watching us in the room the entire time.

It was Professor Callahan, and he had a devilish grin on his face. "Well, that was a nice little chat, wasn't it?" he said, advancing towards me, wand in hand. I was completely defenceless now that Professor Torrance had taken my wand, and I realised what was about to happen. Somehow Professor Callahan had changed completely. Whether he had been like this from the start, or whether he had been turned by The Sickness and it had affected him differently, or whether this was something else entirely, I felt incredibly scared by his mere presence. I dreaded to wonder what would happen if I touched this man, and saw his future. What evil would I find? "A pity. By the time Professor Torrance gets here, it will be too late. You will be dead, and The Covenant Man will get his prize."

There was that name again. The Covenant Man. Renée had mentioned him to me earlier, did she and Professor Callahan somehow have something in common, against all odds? Did Professor Callahan know Hank Mallory? Or was it a result of his delusion? Was that what The Covenant Man did? Make people, good people go insane? It was almost scary to think of. A more deranged Imperious, if you will. I backed away from Professor Callahan and ran to the door, wrestling with it violently before accepting defeat. "You won't get out that way," he said, firing a warning shot in my direction. I edged around the tables, knocking over some paper that had been left on there, as I advanced around the edge of the room. Thankfully nobody had bothered to put away the desks during the school holidays, and Professor Callahan had to fight his way through them, obliterating those that he didn't feel like pushing with his spells, firing a few at me, but I was nimble and I was quick enough to dodge them.

It didn't take me long to realise that there was in fact a way out. I remembered a fireplace in Professor Torrance's office. I could use the floo, if he had some powder nearby. It wasn't much of a chance, a fool's hope, but a fool's hope was the best possible outcome beyond waiting for Professor Torrance to return in person. And given that Professor Callahan was staying on the seventh floor, it would be a while yet, as Professor Torrance would have to find his usual haunts before determining that he was not at any of them. I had to be quick – if I could be quick, I could make it to the classroom before Professor Torrance even got there. What I would say to him I didn't know, but one thing was very clear. I had to move.

I waited until Professor Callahan had reached the back of the classroom and was proceeding down the final aisle towards where I was before I made a sprint for it. As if he was playing with me, the man hurled a chair in my direction and it smashed into pieces as it collided with me, throwing me across the floor. Driven by adrenaline and fear, I scrambled to my feet and kept moving, with death coming up quickly behind. Clad in black, Professor Callahan turned into a sprint, jeering as he went, "I'm coming to get you, Mr. Kennedy, I'm coming to get you!"

He was almost on me. I barely made it to Professor Torrance's private room in time, racing up the stairs and slamming the door shut behind me before moving a bookcase in front of it as best I could to prevent him from entering. It seemed that the door was strong enough to stop a few spells that he tried firing in my direction, and I realised after a moment that the spells had stopped coming. It either meant he had given up, or more likely, he had something worse in store for me.

"Okay, so if I was a paranoid Vegan Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, where would I keep some Floo powder?" I said aloud, to nobody in particular. I felt the gaze of Jack Nicholson staring down at me everywhere I moved, the eerie stillness of the dated photograph that hung up on the wall sending chills down my spine every time I looked at it, like he was judging me. The photograph that had stood the test of time, of fire and destruction.

I searched the drawers, starting slowly and getting quicker all the while as I scoured them. I didn't care that I was going through Professor Torrance's private things, newspaper cut-outs of events in Derry, Maine, disappearances of young children over the course of 1957 and 1958, bookended by a much more recent incident occurring in the small town of Twin Peaks, Washington that had happened last year, in 1989. A teenager by the name of Laura Palmer had been murdered. I didn't have time to read more, so I left the newspaper. On what seemed like the fifteenth drawer I found some powder, but it appeared to be decidedly not floo powder, based on what I knew floo powder to be. It was after I put that back down, I heard the wood split behind me with a loud crack.

Professor Callahan had somehow found an axe, or transfigured one, and was using it to break down the door the best he could. I tried searching more drawers, but it appeared that the more I searched, the more time was running out. His face was visible in the doors now, that sadistic face. " _Here's Johnny_!" he said through the wood, and I couldn't help but feel like somehow, someone had seen that before. I reached around for objects that I could use to hit him with, and went for the photograph, which came off the wall surprisingly easily. He said again, looking at me as I advanced around the side towards him, swinging his axe in my direction. _"H-Here's Johnny!"_

I hit him with the portrait on the head in the second that the axe had fallen on the bookcase in front of him, using all the strength I could. I wasn't sure what it would do but it was the only thing I had that was close enough to a weapon, but what happened next caught me by surprise. A shockwave sent both myself and Professor Callahan flying backwards in the two rooms, and I heard the crunches that resulted in him falling down multiple stairs. It was like the photograph had been holding spirits, trapped in the image, and now with the breaking of the photograph, the spirits were free again, ready to roam Hogwarts.

I didn't care about what I'd just done in that moment though, all that mattered was finding the Floo Powder before Professor Callahan could get back on his feet, and at last, success came. If I had been paying a bit more attention I would have noticed that the photograph that I had left behind was now empty, and not even Jack Torrance remained – but in the heat of the moment, I wasn't paying attention. I knew that I had to make it to Professor Callahan's room and warn Professor Torrance before he returned to his office and found a mad Professor waiting for him.

I fond the Floo Powder on the other side of the room from the fireplace, beneath yet another newspaper article on The Overlook Hotel Fire, in a drawer marked _Overlook._ This time, it was Floo Powder, and this time, I was sure. It was a good thing too, because Professor Callahan had climbed back onto his feet, and had made his way inside the room, bringing his axe to bear, having long ago cast aside the wand, for whatever reason I didn't know. "I'm coming to get you!" he crowed, wiping off the blood as he ran towards me. I was able to navigate my way through the obstacles in my path, thankfully aligned in my favour over Professor Callahan's. I made a mental note to apologise to Professor Torrance for the destruction I was causing in his room, throwing bits of pieces on the floor in an effort to curb the attack from his counterpart.

Eventually, I reached the fireplace. Thankfully, I knew Professor Callahan's room, it had an odd number, a remarkably high one for Hogwarts that felt like it should have been out of place on the seventh floor. It felt like a severe mismanagement by whomever had designed Hogwarts, but all that mattered in this particular moment was getting there, and getting there fast as possible. I made sure I made my case to say it as clearly as possible to, I didn't want to end up somewhere I hadn't before, in a strange room on the other side of the world. " _Hogwarts_ , _Room 217!"_


	14. Room 217

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Fourteen: Room 217**

 _Room 217._ The room that belonged to Professor Callahan. The very number sounded familiar, like I recalled it from my life back home. Like so many other things over the past few months. There was a connection, it was just finding the missing link. The Shine, The Overlook, Jack Torrance, and now Room 217 cropping up yet again. Music was playing on a Vinyl player as soon as I entered, instantly informing me that _yes sir,_ something was very much wrong. Music at Hogwarts? It felt like sacrilege, like the start of those bad fanfics that have self-inserts showing up to Hogwarts with iPhones despite the fact that the books came out years before their invention. Granted, I'd heard music before, but that was in the Room of Requirement, where rules didn't apply, as far as I was aware. But apparently Professor Callahan was exempt from the no muggle music rule, because _Annie's Song_ was playing on a record player. John Denver. It gave the room a sense of haunting atmosphere as I walked, unwittingly making my way towards the bathroom, which was visible from the fireplace, because there looked like there was somebody inside, and I was curious to see who they were. "Professor Torrance?" I asked, wondering if he was due to be in Room 217 anytime soon.

I edged closer, awkwardly, feeling almost empty without my wand despite the fact that I had only held it for a few short months. It had become my equivalent of an iPhone, and I saw why wizards didn't need mobiles. After all, why do you have the need for one when a wand can do everything that a phone can? It was a beautiful woman that was waiting for me, tall and slender, well-built and as far as I was aware, stark naked. It wasn't the first time I had seen a naked member of the opposite sex before, but it still took me by alarm all the same. "Who are you?" I couldn't help but ask. How many more girls was Hogwarts hiding? "Are you okay?"

She advanced towards me, a smile on her face like she was happy to see me. I did my best to not look at her, maintaining eye contact, but from my vantage point compared to her height it made me uncomfortable and awkward all the same. I'm pretty sure I was turning red with embarrassment. I had to remember that I was in an eleven-year old's body, and although I was just getting to the end of puberty myself, it was highly likely that Robin simply hadn't been able to experience it yet. As I tried to back away, she held me close, and it was only then that I caught sight of who the woman actually was in the mirror behind, and screamed, pushing her back as I heard her sinister, gloating laugh.

It was then that Professor Torrance rushed in, and noticing me there, looked shocked, but cast a spell at the demonic woman all the same. She vanished the moment she was struck, turned into what I didn't know. He looked at me after I climbed to my feet. I couldn't help but say once I'd recovered, "What took you so long?"

"You were supposed to stay in my room."

"Professor Callahan was there already. He heard every word," I said. "He went crazy, with an axe, tried to gut me. I had to escape, so I thought I'd come here, to Room 217 and try and warn you. And then I got jumped by the hag."

He took it in for a moment. "I'm assuming based on the fact that the hag's here, you smashed the portrait?"

"Yeah. I tried to knock Professor Callahan unconscious with it..."

"And you thought that would work?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Well, congratulations. If there was something supernatural about The Overlook Hotel, you've just released everything that survived the fire through that photograph into Hogwarts," said Professor Torrance. "So anything that you saw in that room earlier that was holographic, or written evidence, has just become real. I knew I should have secured that photograph better. Here, take this. You're going to need it for what happens next."

He threw me my wand, and I caught it. "You don't think I'm the poisoner? What changed your mind?"

"I know you're not the poisoner. You're way too stupid to be that smart," said Professor Torrance. "It seems like I overestimated you on the first night. You're just a fool who was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," I said, relieved that he finally understood. "I've got no idea what I'm doing."

"You didn't have to tell me that," he said, as the fireplace flickered into life behind us. Smoke came out of the fire, as if somehow Professor Callahan had sent smoke grenades in first before coming in himself. It forced us to run for the door, and I wondered how he'd managed to pull something like that off. Covering our faces, we cast spells behind us as we ran, and one of them must have hit the Vinyl Player because _Annie's Song_ ended with a clattering, abrupt smash, as the room descended into an awkward silence.

"So, what do we do now?" I asked, once we came to a stop inside a classroom.

"Is there anything he said to you that would strike you as odd? Anything that we can use?"

"He brought up The Covenant Man," I said. "Someone called The Covenant Man. I don't know who or what a Covenant Man is, but he said that he had to kill me for The Covenant Man."

Professor Torrance looked at me. "You? And you're sure he meant you?"

"He could have just meant that he wanted to kill people in general, I didn't exactly stop to ask him," I said, realising that if I singled out my own involvement I'm pretty sure suspicion would be back on me for being the poisoner. I had to protect my own interests as well.

"Very well," said Professor Torrance, "Now listen, I have a plan. It's going to need something from you. You're going to have to do something that I would normally never ask a first year to do, but as he potentially seems to have an interest in you – we would be foolish not to exploit that."

"We don't even know that he has an interest in me," I protested, very much against the idea of being bait, noticing all-too quickly what Professor Torrance had seemed insane enough to suggest. "You're just as mad as he is. I won't be able to defend myself."

"From what you said, he was using an axe, which suggests he's not in his right mind right now," said Professor Torrance. "And you already escaped him once. You'll be able to again. Trust me. And besides, If I'm wrong, he'll go after me and not you, so we won't have to worry about it."

"This is absolutely insane. I knew Defence teachers had problems, but I didn't expect them to be this bad," I said. "You do realise that if Dumbledore finds out you put a student in danger, it'll be your job?"

"And if we don't stop my co-worker, I won't live long enough to lose it," Professor Torrance said. "I need you to lure him to the Astronomy tower for me. I have an idea to destroy both the curse that you unleashed and stop Professor Callahan, but I need some time to put it together and get it working. I'm counting on you to give me that time."

He paused for a second, allowing me to take it in, before adding, "Oh, and one more thing… I need a lock of your hair."

I knew instantly what he was trying to do, and no matter how crazy the idea sounded, if it stopped Professor Callahan, I reluctantly decided that it would be the best possible alternative to getting myself decapitated with an axe. Especially as there was a chance he could just simply go after Professor Torrance anyway. So, I gave Professor Torrance a bit of my hair. "Half an hour should do the trick," he said. "Just keep him away from the ground floor and my classroom, and the higher you go the better, but don't go up to the astronomy tower too early."

"Don't worry, there's no danger of that," I said, realising that whatever happened next would likely further cement my fear of heights. I wondered why Professor Torrance needed two Robin Kennedys to pull off his plan, but at this point, there wasn't much else that I could do. We'd long lost Professor Callahan thanks to where we were hiding, but it didn't take us long to find him again with the help of the portraits, who were quickly gossiping about the Defence teacher who'd gone mad, and was dragging an axe down the hallway.

We heard the axe before we saw it. Professor Callahan was dragging it across the floor, and the noise was insanely loud, to the point where I wondered whether it was almost enhanced. It was the third floor where we came across him, not far from the room which would hold the Philosopher's Stone next year. "Alright," said Professor Torrance, just before we reached the same corridor that Callahan was on. "Now it's time to see whether he wants you specifically."

"So who goes first? Me or you?" I asked. We were at an intersection a T-Junction if you will, and all on of us would have to do would be to run across to the other side of the corridor that we were on and keep running, and whichever target Callahan went after, we would assume that that was his prey. If it was me, then it was the second time that he would have gone after me and neither of us was a big believer in coincidence. If he went after Professor Torrance, then it would be more random. And hopefully Professor Torrance wouldn't need me to go to the Astronomy Tower.

"You, of course," said Professor Torrance, as though it was something that seemed obvious. He was quite some way away, but was edging closer.

"Are we sure we can't just take him to the dungeons instead and trap him in there?"

"No, it has to be the astronomy tower," he insisted.

"Fine," I said, knowing that time was running out, so I decided to act, running out in front of Professor Callahan and spreading my arms out wide. "You wanted me," I couldn't help but add theatrically, seeing his face light up with anticipation as he recognised me. "Here I am."

I dove to the other side of the corridor, expecting a spell cast in my direction, but no magic came. Instead, he advanced further forward, dragging his axe with him. Eventually, he reached the end, and I noticed that Professor Torrance did not decide to intervene, even shying away from making his presence known. I wondered what the hell his game was, but he had already vanished before I could attempt to yell an insult at him for double crossing me.

It seemed that both Defence teachers had completely lost their marbles, and I was just witnessing why Professor Quirrell would be re-instated next year. But I had no choice but to stall for half an hour now, and hope that Professor Torrance would come through and he hadn't just left me to die. I did my best to run, but I was only a boy, and the speed of a grown man meant that I had a little headstart. The best I could do was knock over things in my path, taking out knights of armour in the first place. I wondered where all the ghosts had gone, and wondered if the curse hadn't affected them as well that I'd unleashed by breaking the photograph. I took Professor Callahan on a tour of Hogwarts, making sure to kill enough time before I could ascend to the astronomy tower.

There was just one problem. The stairs hadn't turned in my direction yet, and it was not for the first time since I started at Hogwarts that I'd found myself frustrated by them. I looked up, and noticed that they were a good way away, out of reach and not moving anytime soon. I was literally one staircase away from the astronomy tower, and the gap was too high for me to jump it. It was too high even for an athlete to jump it. You'd have to have superpowers to be able to pull it off, and even then. You'd be lucky.

"Shit," I couldn't help but curse aloud once I heard the sound of the axe being dragged along the floor come to a halt behind me. I was out of breath, already, and had been corned off, literally at the end of the corridor. The only way forward, unless I could somehow stall Professor Callahan until the corridor turned, was _down._

I went for my wand, but Professor Callahan's voice was very clear, instantly catching on to what I was doing, preventing me from turning around to face him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Robin. No, I wouldn't do that at all…"


	15. You're in My World Now

**The Fire Waltz Chapter 15: You're in My World Now**

 **I.**

I waited for my death to come, and I heard the noise almost instantly, before I saw where it was coming from. "You hear that?" Professor Callahan said to me, as the barking increased. "That's the hounds of hell. They're coming for you, boy, because that's where you're headed. And there ain't nothing you can do about that."

He was right. I was standing on the edge of death, and I dare not turn around. I didn't know where the barking was coming from, but it sounded like it was getting louder and louder. Was I really going to hell? Was hell even real? Callahan certainly thought so, or at least whatever was possessing him did. Not for the first time today I felt angry, annoyed at being duped by Professor Torrance. I knew I still had five, no, ten minutes left before the clock ran out and I had to be in the astronomy tower where I would presumably meet myself. How he got the Polyjuice potion ready so quickly was beyond me, pre-prepared for lessons was the most likely answer. Lessons for sixth or seventh years.

The barks increased by the second, getting louder and louder, and I didn't know what Professor Callahan was waiting for. Why he hadn't landed the axe blow just yet. Was something holding him back from going for the kill? Was he wrestling with himself? I dared to turn around, Merlin help me, I had to see what was going on, the source of the barks. Was it a hellhound? Were they real in the wizarding world? I was about to get my answer.

And relief washed over me, even though I wasn't entirely safe yet.

It wasn't a hellhound. That was just the paranoia, and the fear talking. I had never been happier to see Fang in my life.

The dog came running, oblivious to the fact that an axe was in the way, putting himself in harms way, and where there was Fang, there was Hagrid, close behind. He wielded his Umbrella threateningly, and I was curious about who would come out on top were the two able to come to blows, but before Fang could collide with Professor Callahan, the clanking of the staircase signified its turning, and it wasn't long before it had reached a distance where I could jump and make my ascendance, eternally thankful for the fact that Hagrid had just saved me from certain death. I watched from above as Professor Callahan tried to wrestle the dog away, and the dog bit and tore at his flesh, ripping out chunks, angry that a student was attacked, a student who he'd seen talking to Hagrid before. Wincing in pain, Callahan kicked him away, and went for his wand. It was the first time I'd seen him reach for a magical weapon.

And it came in the form of a smoke grenade, or a magical one. The smoke filled the air, and after a while, the barking fell silent, and although I feared for the worst, there wasn't much that could be done because now Callahan was on the move, and I could tell, because I could see the axe rising from the smoke. I fired a few spells in his direction but neither Hagrid or Fang emerged, and I feared the worst for them. The spells were deflected by Callahan with ease, and I had to remind myself that he was trained to fight against the dark arts, so spells that a first year Hogwarts student could perform were likely to be no barrier to him whatsoever. Now knowing that my time was almost up, I decided to make a break for the Astronomy Tower.

The Astronomy Tower. I'd been there before of course, when I confronted Renée. But I dreaded going back up there again and was having to fight every urge in my body to do so. He was gaining on me, but I was getting to the Astronomy Tower, and it wouldn't be long before I reached it.

"I know what you're trying to do," said Professor Callahan after a while, stopping to catch his breath. "It won't work."

I slowed to a halt as well, a few steps away from the Astronomy Tower. I was certain Professor Torrance was likely in earshot. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"Get me to the Tower so your friend can push me off," said Professor Callahan. "It's not going to work, I'm too smart for that."

"We don't want to kill you. We want to kill the curse."

"And you think that would cure me? Boy, you are more naïve than I thought," he said, using the term _Boy_ in a derogatory, almost offensive manner. "Just because I have gone insane does not make me mad. There is no poison. There is no cure. I have been enlightened, and you simply cannot accept that. Whoever I was before is not coming back."

I decided that it would probably not be a good idea to point out the contradiction in his statement. I debated about potentially pushing forward towards the Astronomy Tower, before drawing to the conclusion that it would likely be foolhardy. "Well, crap," I said, edging backwards towards the tower. He cast a spell at the staircase – which was visible through the open doorway - and brought it down as if to prove a point, rendering my way to the tower useless.

I heard cry of " _Goddamn_!" from above. It was Professor Torrance. There was a fireplace up at the top of the Tower, so he could use that, but it would still be a while before either of us got there, and most likely, Professor Callahan was smart enough not to follow. So I had to think of a new plan, and a new plan that I had to relate to Professor Torrance.

"Professor Callahan, did you go to Hogwarts when you were younger?" I couldn't help but ask, hoping he'd be able to answer the question.

"No, boy, I went to a school in Cork. It was a mean old place. The things they did to you there… let's just say, it _scars_ me," he said. His voice sounded like it was dripping on the edge of insanity, and he was only one joke away from breaking out into a maniacal laugh. "But why would you want to know?"

"I was wondering what house you might have been sorted in," I said. "I get curious, you see. If people don't end up in their Houses. I mean, I'm a Hufflepuff. I wasn't sure whether I'd like it or not at first, but The common room for me is really safe and welcoming."

Was that a bit on the nose? Did Professor Torrance hear that? Did Callahan suspect a trap? "Hufflepuffs? Boy, I wouldn't want to be in a Hufflepuff. I'd be a Gryffindor, you know. Brave and bold. All the things I'm doing for The Covenant Man. It takes guts. An ordinary man couldn't do half the things that I'm doing. Not like me. I'm a _real_ man, you see. You're just a child. Out of his depth and ready to die. You pissed him off, real bad, you know. The Covenant Man. Real, real bad. You just pray that I kill you boy, because the next thing that he sends for you might not be as nice."

There it was. I understood now, the real reason why Professor Torrance wanted us to be separated. He wanted to learn whether I was just a generic target or not, and Callahan flat out admitting that I was his prey was certain a bona-fide proof. "Why. What did I do to him?" I asked. "I've never met him."

"You have history," he said. "More than you know. It's remarkable what you accomplished at such a young age. It's just a shame… these last few months. It's like you're a completely different person, if everything The Covenant Man has told me about you since I started speaking to him is true. I'd say Polyjuice, but I've never seen you drink anything like a regular Polyjuice potion user would. Tell me, Mr. Kennedy. What's your secret?"

"Maybe The Covenant Man's just lying," I said. "I've never met him before in my life, and I swear on that. If I'm being honest, though. I almost preferred you when you were less, y'know… talky."

"Ah. Yes. Thank you for the reminder that I had a job to do," said Professor Callahan. The more I glanced at his face, the more I noticed just how scarred it was. Those wounds would take a lifetime to heal and it looked as though Fang had ripped out a chunk of his face. It was gruesome, and it was a wonder that he wasn't kneeling over in pain, clutching his face. Maybe it was something that The Curse had done to him? He spat blood with his words, wiping it off his face. "A pity. I was beginning to like my new face."

And with that, I headed for The Hufflepuff Common Room, hoping that he would follow, and hoping that so too, would Professor Torrance. At least I knew I had an easier task with Professor Callahan, who raced forward. I had long since lost track of the time, but knew it must be late afternoon at least. The thick snow made it impossible to tell, it was not relenting anytime soon, and by now, the grounds were almost unwalkable, even for Hagrid.

But that didn't stop me. I ran, chased down. I ran faster than I'd ever run in my life, and, helped by the fact that the staircases seemed to play to my strengths this time, made it back down with no interruptions. There was blood on the floor of where I had been saved by Hagrid and Fang earlier, as well as bits of Professor Callahan's flesh that Fang had ripped out, but no Hagrid or Fang, so I presumed that they had been able to go elsewhere and were alive. Good. I made sure to take the long route, away from the hospital wing, just in case Professor Callahan felt like he had some easy prey in mind, and by the time I reached the entrance to Hufflepuff House, my plan to stop him, my _own_ plan, had come into place properly, and I was thankful for my suitcase, and that it was bigger on the inside than on the outside. And that I could change what I wanted to be while I was in it.

Not to the extent of The Room of Requirement level change, I would need some help from someone who was gifted in transfiguration (hello, Professor Torrance!), but for all intents and purposes, the suitcase was a mini-Room of Requirement. It had extra rooms that I could add, and I could easily make them into whatever I wanted within reason. I fought through the Common Room, jumping over furniture as I made my way into the confines of my own room.

The suitcase was there waiting for me, and I entered, finding that it had already been opened. Had Professor Torrance made it here before me? He had to have had made it here before me. Presumably he'd used the Floo to traverse the Castle quicker. I took the standard safety precautions regardless, but even before I'd finished, Professor Torrance had found me, having used Polyjuice to turn into as an exact duplicate of myself, warts and all. "This better be good, kid."

"Alright," I said. "Now it's my turn for you to trust me."

 **II.**

The boy in yellow fled through the castle, and the axeman followed.

Professor Callahan smelled the boy. He knew where he was going, and he knew that it was likely to be a trap. But this boy was eleven years old, and he was only a child. A child with one year's worth of teaching who had apparently regressed, if his Master's stories were to be believed. He had only started contacting The Covenant Man recently, since the appearance of The Girl, but his new job as an undercover operative had been a remarkable career change, something that was just what he needed. It was just a shame that the boy hadn't died _yet._ If he died, he knew, his master would reward him. His Master rewarded people who were loyal, and he was the most loyal of them all.

The suitcase was easy enough to find and if the boy was smart enough, Callahan would have thought it was a trap, but no, he was not smart enough to have a Plan B. He had literally crushed their Plan A, taken the other Professor out of the game, and now only the boy remained. Advancing through the suitcase he disabled the established security wards that had come with the purchase with ease, preventing the alarms going off, and he was almost surprised to find out that he was in a Church. A Church? The boy wasn't religious, he knew. Nobody who went to Hogwarts was. So why a Church? It looked vaguely American in design, more modern than the traditional ancient British Medieval-era churches, hangovers from a forgotten past, but all the pews were empty and there weren't any Bibles present on them. Paintings on the wall were scarce too, and it was bare.

At the front of the Church, up a few steps, there was an open coffin. Professor Callahan advanced, cautiously, noticing that up on the wall stood an enlarged, broken in half portrait of Professor Torrance's insane relative from The Overlook Hotel in the 1920s. He knew the curse of The Hotel had followed him here, he knew that the Boy had unleashed it on The Castle. Around the back of the Church, Red Curtains draped down, giving off an eerie, almost operatic feel.

It didn't take him long to work out who was in the Coffin. It was the boy, and his face blank, expressionless and emotionless. He advanced towards the boy, up the steps, and inspected his face, turning him over and over to inspect him. He checked the heartbeat, and was surprised to find out that there was none. The boy was dead. Suicide?

He looked around him, and cast the spell _"Homenum Revelio,_ " but to no avail. Not only was there nobody around him, but the boy in front of him was no longer human either, or rather, no longer alive. No longer breathing. Dead. Somebody had gotten to him first. Or, more likely, he had gotten to himself first. But why all the theatrics of the Church?

He didn't like the questions that the set-up provided. But all he had to do was get the body out of the Church. "My Master will not like this," he said, aloud. "He will not like it that you have taken the cowards' route out. No, no. He'll be disappointed. He expected more from you. A fight, and all that. You know, he comes and tells me, look here, Rowan. The boy is strong. He is a test. He's powerful. He is capable of great things, and not to be underestimated."

The goading did not work, so he prodded the boy with his wand, jabbing him multiple times before deciding that he was unresponsive. "Oh, hell," he said. "The Curse, you know. I suppose I'm going to have to remove it. Makes no sense in keeping it up with you dead. It was only a bit of fun. I'm still struggling to work out who caused The Sickness, though. I thought it was you at first. But that's a whole different ballgame."

"Anyway," he continued. "It's been fun, reliving a trip down memory lane. For Professor Torrance at least, I had kind of hoped he'd be here to see this. It being the same things that happened to his cousin. I really hoped he'd go mad, the Professor. Keep it in the family, and all that. A real shame. A pity."

He stepped forward, and that was when he realised that something was wrong, and voiced his curiosity aloud. He couldn't physically touch the body of Robin Kennedy, it was like something was obstructing his hand, something that stretched all around him, preventing from escaping. Glass that hadn't been visible to the naked eye, but was now clear. He tried to run but the glass had come up behind him too, and it was so strong that not even a spell cast from his wand could break it down.

"What is this?" Professor Callahan exclaimed, smashing hard on the glass to no avail. Gas began to fill the air around him, and he realised that it was gas that was ready to knock him out, just to add salt in the wounds, as if getting outsmarted by someone who wasn't even a teenager. "What trickery, what delivery is this?"

Another Robin Kennedy, one who was very much alive, stepped out from behind the Red Curtain and walked towards him. "I got the idea from the way you used smoke against us. And whilst I must admit I was kind of hoping you'd deactivate the curse, you're too smart for that, we have all the tools ready to keep it contained in this suitcase until we can get a cursebreaker from Gringotts, or feed you the truth potion so you can deactivate it yourself."

"A real shame," the kid couldn't help but echo his own words back at him, revelling in his moment of triumph. "A pity. I thought you'd be smart enough to notice the glass, Professor Callahan. Although to be fair, I must give credit to Professor Torrance. Without him, this wouldn't have been possible. You see, Professor. There's something that you forgot the moment that you entered the suitcase."

The corpse was alive again. It was a trick of the light, it must have been, and he found himself being given the stare-down by two Robin Kennedys. He wasn't entirely sure what Professor Torrance had been doing disguising himself as the boy, but if he had to have a guess, it would have had something to do with plan at the Astronomy Tower. "What would that be?" he couldn't help but choke out, as the gas consumed him.

"You're in my world now, Professor. Here, you play by my rules."


	16. Saved These Words

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Sixteen: Saved These Words**

 **I.**

Professor Torrance allowed himself to triumphantly smoke a cigar once the unconscious Professor Callahan had been disposed of, taking in what he viewed as a luxury, a guilty habit that he couldn't get rid of. I'd seen the man smoke multiple times and it was no surprise that he couldn't quit. It was an addiction for him. He turned to me, acting on the confirmation of his theory. It felt weird seeing an eleven-year-old me look at me in the mirror with a cigar in hand, but the Polyjuice was beginning to wear off. Torrance had kept it for a lesson that he was planning for with the intention of brewing it over Christmas for the students on their return, so as a result, he was able to put one together. Seventh years, I'd been told. Only the most experienced even had a shot at Polyjuice. Note to self. Get held back a year, so then you can copy off Hermione Granger's homework. If she could brew Polyjuice at _twelve years old,_ there was no wonder as to why she had been described as one of the smartest witches of her age.

"So. The Covenant Man, huh?" he said. "Any idea who he is?"

"No. Apparently Professor Callahan thinks I know him."

"And you don't."

"And I don't. You believe me?"

"You haven't lied to me so far, and we just took this guy down together, so I'm inclined to trust you, kid," said Professor Torrance, slowly growing back to his full size. It felt weird watching someone in Polyjuice transform, and he quickly replaced his smaller clothes with transfigured ones.

"So, the curse should be contained within this suitcase, right? As long as there's no way out for the spirits with the temporary wards you put in place?" I asked.

"They'll hold until we can get a cursebreaker or Dumbledore comes back from Istanbul," said Professor Torrance. "In the meantime, we need to clear this mess up. I'll keep the trunk for now. Wouldn't want to risk it falling into the wrong hands."

"Yes sir," I said, and then glanced around at all the school work that I'd stored in there, that was becoming more visible once the transfiguration to the Church had vanished. It had been an inspired choice from me, the Church, the best place to hold a coffin, and whilst the initial plan had been to get Professor Callahan to remove the curse upon believing that I was dead, I knew he would be smart enough to suspect that something was wrong. So that meant a Plan C, which in this case came in the form of magically enhanced glass, hastily assembled and transfigured by Professor Callahan. I decided to add onto the end of my comment. "Oh, one more thing, I'm assuming I can't take any of my schoolwork and reading materials from the suitcase? That's infected, too?"

"I'm afraid so. Don't worry. I'm sure once Dumbledore hears of what you've done, The Old Man will be more than happy to provide a replacement. I can't believe it though, after all these years, the curse is still around. I had read rumours about this photograph being cursed, I only acquired it recently. I feel guilty for letting it be brought into Hogwarts. I'm surprised the wards didn't pick it up."

"Maybe it's not traditional magic," I suggested. "I've been reading up over the last few weeks. I stumbled across occult literature. Something called The Shine. Maybe it has something to do with that."

"The Shine? What's that?"

"It's a power," I said. "Apparently there are few who possesses it who can see visions of the future. Yet I don't see that cropping up in any of the magical textbooks. So maybe, whatever magic is connected to The Shine is connected to the Overlook."

"That makes sense," said Professor Torrance. "What book did you read?"

"Something by an author called Richard Bachman," I said, electing not to point out that I'd found it in the Room of Requirement. "I can find it for you if you want."

"That would be swell," he said. "Seriously, I mean it kid. You've been a great help. A hundred points for Hufflepuff, and I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will give you more when he gets back with a cure for the hospitalized students."

"Are you sure Professor? You did most of the work."

"I put your life in danger, twice," he said. "And although you have some connection with The Covenant Man, it's clear that it wasn't worth going through that to find out what it was. Especially as you don't know anything, it seems. Unless you want us to subject you to the truth potion?"

I wondered for a second how Veritaserum would work in conjunction with me revealing spoilers about the future, but decided that it couldn't hurt. "If you think it would benefit, sure. I'm happy to help."

"No," Professor Torrance said. "We can do this later. You've probably had enough adventure for a lifetime. It might be a good idea to grab some food and get some sleep. Oh, and that final line you said to Professor Callahan?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to have to steal that."

"It's already stolen, so be my guest."

He chuckled as he let me leave.

 **II.**

I found myself at the hospital wing. It was better to get check up on myself I figured, just in case, and Madam Pomfrey gave me the once-over and found nothing. I was relieved to see that Fang was up and walking again, and so was Hagrid, and both of the two approached me. Fang ran towards me, happy that a student of Hogwarts wasn't harmed. "Thanks for saving my life," I couldn't help but say to both Hagrid and the dog, and I reached into my pocket and found my Tennis Ball, which was still there, and had been all this time. I threw it to the dog, who caught it in his mouth, and began chewing on it.

"It was nothin'," Hagrid said. "I'd do the same for anyone. Fang would too. He's a big softie, really. All bark, no bite. Most of the time, that is."

I glanced over at the Hospital Wing where Professor Callahan sat, unconscious with his face wrapped in a mask. "Will he be okay?" I couldn't help but ask.

"I don't know," said Hagrid. "Professor Torrance told me what happened to him. Poor bloke. Actin' against his will. Lotta folk did things they didn't like doin' in the war. Thought we'd seen the last of it at Hogwarts."

 **III.**

Albus Dumbledore returned on Christmas Eve, and summoned me to his office. "It seems you and I are spending a lot of time together, Mr. Kennedy."

"Yes sir," I said, knowing that he was talking about the football incident that occurred earlier in the year.

"But in this incident, it seems I am eternally grateful for your actions," said Professor Dumbledore. "Putting yourself in danger to save the school is not something that many students would have the courage to do, especially those of you in your first year."

"It was more of a survival thing, if I'm being honest sir. I don't feel like I deserve all the points Professor Torrance gave me."

"Nonsense," said Professor Dumbledore. "You helped not only save the school, but also Professor Callahan. Yes. Didn't I tell you? He awoke today. We were able to get him to the Hospital, and he was cured. Unfortunately, he will remain scarred for life, not even our Healers could undo what Fang did to him, but he accepts the consequences of his actions and is coming to terms with it. What he has done, conscious or not, will live with him for the rest of his life. As I expect, the memory will live with you for the rest of yours, too."

"Yes Professor," I said. It seemed I had been picking up a lot of new lifetime memories lately. "Can I ask about the students in the Hospital Wing? Have you been able to find a cure?"

"Unfortunately, my quest to Istanbul turned up no answers," said Professor Dumbledore. "Only more questions. It appears I was sent there on a wild goose chase, as the muggles put it. I pity for the students, not being able to spend Christmas with their families. Yet I fear if we do not find a cure before the end of January, the school is in danger of having a governor's meeting wherein the safety standards at Hogwarts will be reviewed."

"Oh," I said, realising what he meant, and the context of the fact that there had just been _another_ major safety breach at the supposed safest place in the country. I thought back to how the school was almost closed in _The Chamber of Secrets._ "Is the school in danger, sir?"

"I am doing everything I can to ensure that it will not be placed under threat of closure," said Professor Dumbledore. "But I fear, as Headmaster, ultimately my hands are tied. Most of the Board of Governors were ex-pupils here at one point, however, and I am sure they are well aware of what the school means to some people. I only hope, for the sake of the students, that a cure can be found in time."

"Is there anything that I can do, Professor?" I couldn't help but ask, and Dumbledore smiled warmly at me.

"May I ask you a question," he said, ponderously. "Out of the two Houses, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, you had a choice between both. What made you go for Hufflepuff? As much as Pomona's house is loved by those students who are its members, and as much as it pities me to say it, I am yet to find a student when given the option between Hufflepuff and another House, do they opt for Hufflepuff. It appears you may be a first, in that regard."

"I always thought I was more of a team-player sir," I said, not bothering to ask how he knew. It didn't take a genius to see that I had some Gryffindor tendencies, and of course, the Hat sat in his office all year round. They probably had conversations all the time. "And besides, I don't like the stigma that surrounds Gryffindor, no offense, sir, I know this was the house you were in, but sometimes its students can be a little full of themselves."

He chuckled at that, even though to some it may have seemed I was directly insulting his house. "All the more power to you, Mr. Kennedy. I'll be sure to tell Minerva that some of her students have been giving her house a bad reputation."

I looked positively mortified at the very thought of doing something that would insult Professor McGonagall that she found out about. As much as she tried to remain impartial, it was clear that not everyone was perfect, and she too held a bias for Gryffindor at heart. "Don't worry," said the Headmaster, seeing my worried reaction. "I was only, pulling your leg. But oh yes, it appears I have forgotten something that I feel like I should mention. I feel like you deserve an award for special services to the school, for helping to remove a curse that was unleashed within its walls, and saving Professor Callahan's life."

"With all due respect sir, it was my fault that the curse was unleashed in the first place," I said. "By accident, I mean. I broke the photograph. We were lucky we trapped the Overlook spirits when we did."

"Even so," said Professor Dumbledore. "You did not break the photograph with malicious intent. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation here and now."

I had very much broken the photograph with malicious intent, but it was malicious intent with a good purpose, so I decided not to bring it up. "Either way Sir, I'd like to decline," I said. "I don't want to be honoured for something that Professor Torrance did most of the heavy lifting of."

"That's awfully selfless of you," said Dumbledore. "Henry said exactly the same thing about you when interviewed, it is in fact, the one thing that you disagree on. It appears to be a conundrum."

"There is one thing you can do for me though, Professor," I said. "Instead of the reward. If you're feeling charitable. I know a lot of people at the orphanage I came from don't really have a lot of friends or family other than themselves. Although I can't make it in person, and I haven't known them long, it would be good if someone could provide them with some gifts. Muggle ones, ideally. They'd appreciate it."

"I will see what can be done," said Professor Dumbledore. "But that said, do you wish to return to your orphanage for Christmas Day? I can arrange that. After all, there are no other students here, and the snow is dying down. You may have missed the train, but Floo powder does exist after all."

"That would be good, Sir. I'd appreciate that," I said, realising how guilty I was for abandoning them.

"Then we shall return," he said, before adding. "Unless there's anything more you'd like to do here?"

I looked back down at the stairs at Dumbledore's Office towards Hogwarts. There wasn't. It was time to return home, or as close as it came to it in this new world.

 _"(When your work is over  
Your day is done  
Put down your hammer  
Into my world come.)"_


	17. Dreaming of Laura Palmer

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Seventeen: Dreaming of Laura Palmer**

 **I.**

Renée had found it difficult to settle in at the Bell Family Home. Katie had been kind enough to offer her a home over the Christmas break, but with family relatives visiting and non-stop questions, she found all the attention off-putting and weird. As someone who had apparently, according to what they told her, not experienced connection with the outside world in twenty-seven years, she would have thought that connection to other people would have been welcomed, but sadly, it was not. The Bells were not a bad family however, and she deliberately went out of her way to avoid making skin-contact with them. They were not involved in what was to come, or at least, not yet.

It was snowing in London, but not to the extent back in Hogwarts and Northern Scotland, and she managed to stay out of trouble until Christmas Eve, when she found herself taking a stroll around the city like nothing was irregular about an eleven-year-old roaming the streets at night alone. The night was something that she preferred the company of, the day was doable, and she had adapted at Hogwarts, but after spending so long under the cover of darkness, it was something that came naturally preferable to her.

She stumbled across the house, hearing the commotion from the door. Curiosity lured her in, and the door was open, so she figured, _why not_? The house called to her. It was like it was familiar to her, somehow. She traced the walls of the corridor up the stairs to the landing, avoiding the commotion downstairs in favour of exploring something that was alien yet familiar. Like Robin, she supposed. He was known, yet he was unknown. 23 Lonsdale Square.

"Hey, what are you doing in here? Who are you?"

She had been spotted. A man walked out of the bathroom, in his late forties, with hair that was starting to grey. He looked alarmed by her appearance, but before he could do anything, she outreached with her hand and made contact, skin on skin contact, with the man. He flinched, backing away from her as if struck, and paid no further attention to her.

She continued to explore the house, finding nothing more that piqued her interest, and then she left, letting the man slaughter his family as though they were nothing to him. She looked at the street post as she left, having strayed a long way from the Bell home.

 _Thackery Rd._

Now why did that name sound familiar?

 **II.**

The Orphanage was surprised but welcoming to see me arrive in the dead of night. The carer greeted me warmly, relived to see that I'd returned from a Scottish boarding school unharmed. My cover was rock solid, provided by Dumbledore himself, and they remained blissfully aware that I had spent the last few days being hunted down by a demonically possessed serial killer, let alone attending a school for witches and wizards. "Hi, Robin," she said warmly. Her hair hadn't changed, and it was still as visually striking as I remembered. "It's good to see you back. Not many come back here after they've left. People start to get lonely. Have you enjoyed school?"

"It was great, thanks Rocky," I said, returning the hug that she offered. Her name was Rocky Simone, I had found out a few days after arrival, and whilst I found it odd that people in real life were named after the boxer played by Sylvester Stallone – and the opposite gender to ' _The Italian Stallion_ ', as he was called in the film at that, but I brushed it aside. It was a pretty cool name for her to have. "Is my bed still there?"

"Yeah. We haven't had anyone join in fact since you left," she said. "Plenty of people have gone though. Some have aged out, we said goodbye to Charles last week. And Becky the month before. But come, you must be tired. Let's get you into bed."

The few boys that remained in my room were asleep by the time I arrived, exhausted. And collapsed without much of a thought. Rocky left not wanting to wake my roommates, and I figured they'd get the surprise that I returned in the morning on Christmas Day. I knew that wasn't going to be the only thing they would get that would be a surprise, either, if Dumbledore's word was true, and having seen both the films and the books, if there was one person you could rely on to stick to their word, it was Albus Dumbledore.

However, I was awoken not by the sound of boys, but by the sound of sirens. Police sirens, roaring loudly, minutes after I drifted off, down the street towards what, I didn't know. Everyone else must have somehow slept through them, so weary and tired, I couldn't help but stumble down curious to find out what the commotion was, and that was when I saw her, standing right there in the small garden like it was totally normal, clad in white and looking as pale as a sheet.

It was Renée. _Renée_ _._ What the hell was she doing here? Did she live in the Orphanage as well? No – Rocky had been explicitly clear, there had been no new arrivals. If so, why was she here? I opened the door, tired. "Hey," I said, warmly, trying to play it cool. "Long time, no see, Ren."

It was the first time I had called her by the nickname and she looked around to see if there was anyone else called Ren standing behind her, before realising that yes, the name belonged to her. "Why were you not on the train, Robin?" she asked, worriedly, as though she had expected me to be.

"I was being stupid," I said. "I… I screwed up, Ren. I shut all of you out when I shouldn't have. I tried to reconnect and get back on the train but it was too late, almost froze to death."

"Merlin's Beard," she said. "If I'd have known I could have stopped the train for you. I thought you wanted to stay at Hogwarts over winter."

"What about you? Where are you staying?"

"At Katie's place," she said. "Which is… not here, by the looks of things."

"What are you doing here? Do you know how you got here?"

"I was in the area," she said with a shrug, but wasn't willing to reveal further. It felt like too much of a coincidence that Renée had shown up on the same night that there were sirens, but she was my friend, and she had spent the last god-knows how many years locked up in a cage. It was London after all, hearing sirens wasn't exactly uncommon. "Thought I'd drop by."

She had started crying. I didn't know why, or what was the cause of it. I advanced towards her. "Hey, hey, it's alright. What's wrong?"

A light flicked on above me, and I looked up to my room. Someone was awake, and they had noticed that my bed was disturbed and had concluded that either I was back or a robber had decided to break in and sleep in my bed. By the time I turned back to Renée however, she was gone. The garden was fairly small, so she could have easily made it to the other side, but I had no idea how she made it over the fence that surrounded it without my attention. I was pretty sure that I had only turned away for a split second…

Still. It would be a bad idea to be spotted outside at this time of night after already being shown to bed by Rocky. So I quickly made my way back to my room, where there were undoubtedly questions from over-excited kids who were looking forward to Christmas Day tomorrow.

"Are you Father Christmas?" one of the new kids asked, a younger one, and everyone burst out laughing.

"No, sorry," I said.

"But you did spend your time in the north," said one of the orphans, whose name I recognised as Hassan. "That's where you were, right, Scotland?"

"Yeah. But Father Christmas wasn't in Scotland," I said. "Remember?"

"Right."

"Besides, I'm missing a beard and a red suit," I said. I was wearing my pyjamas, and had been pretty much the entire conversation with Renée. My feet were freezing and I regretted going out in the garden bare foot. Thankfully, I could slip in unnoticed. "And a few extra pounds."

"Good to have you back," said the boy. "I don't think we met properly before, but I'm assuming you know my name?"

"Hassan, right?" I said.

"Yeah, that's right," he said, yawning. "Look, can we talk more in the morning? I'm beat. And you just _know_ that we're going to get woken up early tomorrow."

"Sure," I said. Hassan was one of the older ones in the room of about four boys of various ages, older than me, but I felt comfortable talking to people older than my age due to the fact that I was technically older than my age after all. I just didn't look it. I too, found myself weary and tired, and I let sleep come in and take me like there was no escape.

And of course, there was a dream. It was a dream that had been happening for me for a while now, ever since I saw the name "Laura Palmer," in Professor Torrance's files. I dreamed of the blonde-haired girl from America, who I had never met, and I dreamed of seeing her in the Red Room. I'd only seen one photograph of her, one muggle photograph of her at that, but her face was stuck in my head like it should be someone who I knew so well, the very fact that she was killed should have had an impact on me.

I was crying in the dream. Crying for the loss of a girl that I had never met before. I wanted justice for her killer. I wanted to get on the first plane to Twin Peaks and solve the mystery myself. I didn't know why the dream had come to me or why it had appeared, but as with most dreams, by the time Christmas morning rolled around, it was completely gone.

( _"Yes, now you're gone  
And from this moment on  
I'll be crying, crying  
Crying, crying  
Yeah, crying, crying  
Over you."_)

 **III.**

As per usual on Christmas morning, I was awake early, although for the first time it was not of my own doing. After the events of last night, I was exhausted, and it took the shoving of one of the kids who I would later find out to be named Thomas to wake me up. "Hey, hey, we can't open our presents until everyone's dressed," he badgered me potentially. "It's good to have you back and all, I know some people were talking about you, but… _presents_ first, please?"

"Fine," I grumbled. At least the music that was playing wasn't MC Hammer this time. I liked the song, but it had been played to death even before I'd travelled back in time, and that Summer was especially brutal on me. To be fair, in terms of replayability, the song that was being played was still damn overused, but at least with _Jingle Bell Rock_ I didn't have to hear it every time that I was at the Orphanage. I threw on some clothes and slowly made my way downstairs, trailing at the back of the pack and allowing the younger kids – who weren't much younger than eleven-year-old Robin Kennedy – to get to the front of the pack.

"Right, now I haven't been able to get much for people," said Rocky, "But we did receive an unexpected donor from a kind-hearted wealthy businessman. So I was able to treat you all to a bit more than usual this year. I know it's not much, but it's something. For those of you who have friends and relatives elsewhere, I'd like to remind you that not everyone is as fortunate as you so please take this into consideration when opening your presents. The choice is up to you, but if you think it's something that you can share with others, I would encourage you to do so."

There were various agreements at this. We were all pretty much in the same boat anyway, no family were willing to take us in meaning that there would be little in the way of presents regardless beyond the customary one-pound coin, or at best, a fifteen-pound cinema gift-card. If someone was lucky. It was something that Rocky had put her homework into with the presents, pairing the right gift for the right person, and both the girls and boys soon found themselves enjoying what they had received.

I had a peculiar parcel waiting for me in my own packaging, which I suspected may have been left by Dumbledore himself, although I had no proof. It could have also been Renée who was in the area, but given that I saw no sign of her last night she had no way of getting into the house, and on top of that, there was nobody who it was signed from. I opened it in the next room when nobody was looking just to be sure – I didn't want to introduce the kids at the Orphanage to the wizarding world on the same day that they were having Christmas presents.

I opened the parcel, looking around the empty kitchen that I was standing in and missing the cheerful enthusiasm of my parents who always had me guess what kind of item it was. Of course, this being the wizarding world, I had no idea what people would get me. A stab of guilt hit me for not getting anything for Renée, Katie, Cho or Alfie, but then there came the lingering thought at the back of my head that they had obviously not gotten anything for me, either. And why should they? I'd driven them apart, wrapped up in a mystery of a vision of what was to come, a fate that I had somehow caused. The parcel itself was a new trunk as it turned out, not as flashy or as large as the last one, but it did manage to contain everything inside that I'd lost as a result. It felt more suitcase proportioned, about the size of bag that you take on an airport with you, and was disguised to look like a muggle suitcase rather than one from the wizarding world.

"A Suitcase?" Rocky was behind me, having followed me into the Kitchen. "Nice. That's a thoughtful gift, very useful where you're going. But did you not have one before?""

"I lost it," I said, deciding that it was probably best not to tell her it if it wasn't destroyed by now, it contained an ancient curse that would affect all who entered.

"Well, make sure you don't lose this one," she said with a smile. "Oh, and you forgot this."

She handed me a present, a small one. I opened it to find a Tennis Ball that she had given me.

"It's not much," she said. "But I noticed you didn't come back with your old one, and it was the only thing that you had when you arrived here that wasn't clothing, so I assumed it might mean something to you. Whilst it's not the one that you lost… it might help."

I smiled, and thanked her. And then added, "Do you need any help with the food?"

"I will," she said. "We have Maria coming in to help, but there are so many people to feed, it's going to be impossible for the two of us."

Breakfast was fairly light and many skipped it entirely. Too wrapped up in the thrill of their own presents. Someone had cracked open a DVD so we stuck it on, and it turned out to be a Christmas-themed zombie B movie that was completely inappropriate for the younger kids to watch, but Rocky was too busy wrapped up with preparations to come in and object. The protagonist, it turned out, had been bitten by a zombie halfway through in a gruesome scene that would likely scar anyone my age who was still watching. However, despite picking up the bite, he had not been turned. There was a big debate about finding someone who had the cure in their blood, and it was built up to be somebody else before he died of a zombie wound. "Of course, it was going to be him. We knew from the moment he didn't turn," said Hassan, who had wanted to watch something else in the first place but had been outvoted. "This film's so stupid. Was that supposed to be the big twist? Like obviously, if you're not infected after a bite, you're going to have the cure."

And then it occurred to me, and I was kicking myself for it only occurring to me now in this moment. I had eaten the same food everyone else had, yet I hadn't been poisoned. I'd dismissed it at first, as me being lucky, or the poisoner needing me alive to be killed by Professor Callahan rather than put in a deep sleep, but what if that wasn't the case? What if the cure for The Sickness was in my blood?

It was a long shot, but it could work. And maybe Hogwarts could be saved.


	18. Robin Kennedy is a Loser

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Eighteen: Robin Kennedy is a Loser**

 **I.**

I spent Christmas Day with the folks at the orphanage, dancing around the Christmas tree and eating food. It was the happiest memory that I'd had since arriving in this world, and it was outside of Hogwarts. Me and Rocky both pulled on a cracker, and she of course, won, so triumphantly put the hat on her head but was kind enough to give me the small pack of cards plus the standard knock-knock joke that came within. After Christmas, we sat around and played Cluedo, something that one of the kids – James, had got for his present.

"Okay," I said, after several rounds had been played. "Colonel Mustard in the billiard room with the lead piping. That's an accusation. I want to check the cards."

"Are you sure?" James said, looking at me. Everyone around who was playing was watching with baited breath. "Are you absolutely, absolutely sure?"

I squinted back at him, wondering if he was calling my bluff. I didn't want to risk it, so I threw my arms up in defeat and said, "Fine. I'll leave it for the next round. What's the worst that could happen?"

James couldn't contain his laughter, and I knew that the second he didn't bother rolling his dice I had potentially made a mistake. "Colonel Mustard in the billiard room with the lead piping. I can't believe that actually worked, Robin. You're terrible at this. You should have just gone."

He picked up the three cards. I noticed he'd been paying attention to me all game, making notes of what cards I had, taking it seriously. However, he looked considerably dejected, and placed the cards back in the pot. "Well played," he said, finding out that I had in fact, been lying to throw him off. "You got me. What was it in the end?"

"Colonel Mustard, Billiard Room, Candlestick," Rocky said, as she was next, and everybody cheered once she'd gotten the results right. She high-fived me. "Thanks for the assist, Robin."

"You know the aim of the game is that you're meant to win, right? Not to help others," said James, glaring at me. I shrugged.

"Meh. It's only Cluedo. Besides, I was never going to win, there's so many people playing and I'm pretty sure that someone was going to get it sooner rather than later. I wasn't the first to work out that it was Colonel Mustard and the Billiard Room. I just couldn't pin down the weapon. You just went with the wrong one, you've been paying too much attention to me and not Rocky."

James sighed, admitting defeat. "Let's see what's on TV." 

**II.**

It wasn't long after Christmas that we were due to return to Hogwarts, and I bade goodbye to my people with little difficulty. I almost contemplated actually staying at the Orphanage, but I knew what Rocky would say if I dropped out, and besides, this was _Hogwarts_ – I had to go back in order to test my blood for the cure.

The train station awaited me and this time Rocky was kind enough to give me a lift. "You know, you can talk to me about Hogwarts," she said, catching me out. "I didn't say anything before because you seemed too wrapped up in its world, and I didn't want to risk anyone finding out."

"I didn't realise you knew," I said, taken aback.

"Oh, yeah, I was a squib back in the day," she said. "Still am, I guess. My parents disowned me, though. 'Cause of it. I decided that I'd help those less fortunate rather than wallowing in my sorrows."

"That sucks," I said. "What family did you belong to, if you don't mind me asking. Not that it matters. I'm not exactly in a privileged position at Hogwarts myself."

"Greengrass," Rocky couldn't help but say, and it took me by surprise. The Greengrass family had been mentioned a couple of times in the book. There were two of them – Daphne and Astoria, but they'd never mentioned a third sister. Given the fact that Rocky had been disowned, it wasn't a surprise. "But I changed my name. Didn't want to be associated with them after that. So now I'm officially Rocky Monroe. Have been for a few years now." 

She pulled up outside on one of the roads, outside the station, and offered one more parting suggestion. "Hey. Good luck. I'll see you in the Summer. Maybe I can help you with your homework."

"I thought we weren't supposed to practice magic outside of school," I said, assuming that she'd picked up a few bits and pieces from her family along the way before she was exiled.

"I never said practising magic," she said. "You and me, we hit the books, right? Hard."

"I'm down for that," I said, getting out of the car and taking my suitcase out of the backseat. I hugged her before saying goodbye, and worked my way into Platform 9 3/4s where I was able to make my way onto the train, looking for Alfie, Renee, looking for Cho, looking for Katie and hoping to apologise to all of them for everything that I'd done.

And I eventually found them, but their carriage was full, a Gryffindor sitting there with them. I must have stayed there for a few minutes, trying to work up the courage to open the door and say hello, but before I could, I caught snippets of the conversation that they were having. "Yeah," Alfie was saying, continuing on from a conversation that I hadn't heard the start of. "He was proper scared. Ran screaming. Pissed himself and ran. And he's like, a massive jerk on top of that. Trust me, Katie. We're better off without him."

"I can't believe he shut us out though," said Cho. "I thought he was better than that. But yeah, you're right. Robin's a loser. What kind of name is Robin, anyway? I've always been meaning to ask. Come on Katie, you can see that. He's…"

I didn't stay to find out what more she was saying about me. I turned and walked away, seeking the comfort of an empty carriage, wondering what the hell had happened. Alfie was my friend, right? He'd waited for me after the incident. We'd gotten football started as a sport together at Hogwarts and had achieved the impossible. Yet I didn't have to look long to find out why they'd cut me out of their lives. It was my fault. I'd cut them out first.

It seemed like I wasn't above the schoolyard drama like I thought I was, and friendship had its ups and downs, just like anything else. As if to pile on the misery, Marcus Flint showed up on cue. Because a train ride without a bully is no train ride at all. "I was looking for you on the train. Couldn't find you," he said. "Thought you'd stayed at Hogwarts. Thought the Sickness had got you. Can't be having that, can we? Boys." 

He was joined by two henchmen, a proto-Crabbe and Goyle. "This is for Diagon Alley," one of them said.

"But you weren't even there!" I protested, "And it was Ethan, not me."

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Flint said. "Ethan isn't here to save you now."

There were a few hexes with wands, coupled with a few punches, that left me beaten and bruised. I tried to fight back, but I was never much of a fighter, having defeated Professor Callahan purely by luring him into a trap, so in closed quarters, I was virtually useless. By the time they left I was beaten and lying on the floor, clutching my nose.

It was broken.

Yeah, I regretted going back to Hogwarts now. If it wasn't for The Sickness, I probably would have gotten off the train. Those happy memories of Hogwarts gone by felt like ancient history now. It was almost like a façade, covering over the cracks.

There was nobody knocking at the door to save me this time. I was on my own. Cleaning up my nose and body as best I could, I took my Tennis ball that had been given to me by Rocky and began throwing it at the wall. I could have confronted my friends and called them out, but the last thing I wanted was a shouting match. I ran the risk of saying the wrong thing, and losing what I had forever.

It was a tough life, and it was an important lesson that I took home with me. Just because I was in a different world, didn't mean that actions, even minor ones, didn't have consequences. I wondered what would happen if I touched Katie again. Would it show her dying, with us around her? Or would I no longer be there?

 **III.**

I didn't bother going to the welcome back feast. The ban on students going to kitchens had been lifted now that Professor Callahan, the believed suspect, had been caught, all food replaced and some Elves let go, and I helped myself to some pizza before retreating to my room. The following morning, I woke up early, and headed down to the Hospital Wing as soon as it opened.

"Madam Pomfrey!" I saw her unlocking its doors. "Madam Pomfrey, wait!"

She looked down at me. "Whatever is the matter, child? Shouldn't you be getting ready for your class?"

"I think I have an idea as a cure to the students," I said, and recounted what Professor Torrance had told me about his theory whittling down who wouldn't be a victim of the poisoning who was still at Hogwarts over Christmas, leaving a question mark around my name. "It's risky, but it could work."

"It seems like a viable idea. If you're happy to donate some of your blood, it will require me a few hours to administer it on a test subject," she said. "Ideally something that isn't entirely human. I don't know what the results would be just yet, and I don't want to risk it based on a hunch."

"Very well," I said, following Madam Pomfrey over to a bed. "I'm ready to start whenever you are."

 **IV.**

Brianna Marshall had been one of the unlucky students to succumb to the sickness. She was a first year Gryffindor, having been sorted into the house yet remained friendless for most of the year. She remembered having suits of armour cursed to harass her by older students, and she wasn't quite sure what she'd done to deserve such harsh treatment other than to be a part of the 'wrong' family. The Marshalls weren't exactly well-off, and her abusive father had seen to it that any reputation that they may have had was shattered within a generation. And in a school full of cliques, it was a problem.

She almost welcomed the time spend in a coma, because it pulled her away from the worries of the world, and allowed for a dreamless sleep. It was her first proper rest in what felt like _ages,_ so naturally when she came to, she was almost frustrated at being disturbed, but at the same time, good to be back on her feet.

Madam Pomfrey was looking down at Brianna, and smiling warmly at her. "Welcome back, Miss Marshall. It's good to have you among the land of the living once more." 

"I'm assuming you found a cure," Brianna said.

"We did," said Madam Pomfrey, gesturing over to a blonde-haired teenager, who was hooked up to some kind of machinery, magical in nature of course, that was extracting blood from his body. "Thanks to the help of Mr. Kennedy over here."

The boy was unconscious, no doubt due to the blood transfusion, and Brianna vaguely recognised him from being a Hufflepuff who had gotten into trouble for attempting to bring a muggle game into the school curriculum. But nonetheless, she was grateful for his actions. "Take a minute to relax," Madam Pomfrey said. "Readjusting yourself to your surroundings after such a long time spent in a magically induced coma can have some negative side effects. I'm afraid you're going to have to take it easy for the next couple of days."

"How long was I out for?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Well, you missed Christmas Day. That's the bad news. But don't fear, it is still Nineteen-Ninety. The good news is that you'll get to see New Year's Day."

"Am I the first one to wake up?" she asked, glancing around at the other students, not feeling overly alarmed by how long she'd been out for.

"Yes," said Madam Pomfrey, "You are. And if you are worried about your studies, don't be, because rest assured, the members of staff will take the fact that you have spent a portion of the year unconscious into effect. And there will be additional classes to catch up on what you have missed, should you wish to attend them. Now, if you don't mind me, we have a long day ahead of us. Plenty of students to awake. Speaking of students, your classmates have returned from their Holidays. Is there anybody who you would wish to tell that you are awake? They'll be relieved."

"No," said Brianna, bluntly, and then clarified by what she meant, "I'm sorry, I mean. I wasn't exactly popular before. I doubt that's changed much in the time that I was asleep."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Well if you want, you can talk to Mr. Kennedy here," she said, waving her wand and the blood transfusion finished. "I have everything that I need now to begin duplicating the cure for The Sickness. I'm sure he will wake up any moment-"

As if on cue, the boy came coughing into life. He was wearing a muggle T-Shirt of a band that Brianna didn't recognise underneath his more traditional school uniform, and it wasn't long before he opened his eyes. Madam Pomfrey had since moved on after he had woken with little difficulty to administer the cure to other students, leaving an awkward silence between both Brianna and the boy. "So," he said, cheerfully, as though he hadn't lost blood from his body. She also took in the support on his nose, that had meant he had been in a fight recently and was recovering from it being broken. "What's up?"

 **Author's Note:**

I'm trying to make this accessible as possible whilst still maintaining a certain level of ambiguity, but if there is confusion, it might be worth checking out the stories that inspired this work. It's also hard to say much without dropping spoilers for what comes next, and it's tricky with dealing with multiple crossovers like this. Although no direct characters feature from both outside of references and dreams in Laura Palmer's case - _Castle Rock_ and _The Shining_ are probably the most relevant at the moment to give you a better idea as to the Stephen King side of things, and knowledge of _The Dark Tower_ serieswill help in the future. Renee being around people and potentially influencing them is not unlike the powers of The Kid in _Castle Rock._ The Covenant Man is one of the many iterations of The Man in Black or Randall Flag, one of the main antagonists of _The Stand_ and _The Dark Tower,_ to give you an idea as to where he has come from. "The Shine" is the name of power that Danny has in _The Shining_ that gives him some degree of clairvoyance.

On the _Twin Peaks_ side of things, _almost_ everything with the Red Room and the dreamscape is to do with that, and given the nature of ambiguity and surrealism in the show it seemed only fitting to model it based on that. I largely modelled The Leaky Cauldron on The Roadhouse, which is a key location in the show, using Julee Cruise an inspiration for the musician there. The murder of Laura Palmer the central mystery behind _Twin Peaks_ too, which conveniently, as well as some scenes in _Castle Rock_ involving the younger version of Henry Deaver _,_ also happen around a similar timeframe. It's also important to remember that no direct characters have appeared 'in person' from any of King's work, _Castle Rock_ or _Twin Peaks_ yet, even if Laura Palmer has been mentioned.

If there's any further questions, don't feel hesitant to ask. Rather than doing two 'Stephen King' stories for Robin's second year I'm only going to do one, so hopefully things will be easier to understand especially as the antagonist for year two is more of a straightforward villain. There's a lot of set-up in this chapter to incorporate Robin in a direction towards what he will be like in year two, as well as an introduction of a new character whose initials it might be a good idea to pay attention to.


	19. Some Days Are Diamonds

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Nineteen: Some Days Are Diamonds (Some Days Are Stone)**

 **I.**

"Oh, nothing much," said the girl, who seemed alarmed at being addressed in such a common manner. Her hair was pretty long and messy, and it to me at least, gave off a Joan Jett vibe that looked straight out of the 80s. I had to remember of course, that the 80s had only ended recently, and the culture didn't go away with the changing of the decade. "The name's Brianna, by the way."

"I remember you from the sorting," I said. "Gryffindor, right?"

"Yeah," she said. "Although I'm still working out why it put me there. The hat, I mean. I'm not brave. I'm not bold. I should have been in Hufflepuff with you. Or Ravenclaw. I like reading."

"Oh yeah? What's your favourite book?" I couldn't help but ask, curious.

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. What's yours?"

"Treasure Island," I said, and seeing her look, added, "What? It's a good book. Lots of pirates and everything."

I couldn't exactly have said Harry Potter, could I? "So, he reads," said Brianna. "I suppose I should thank you. For the blood transfusion, I mean. I guess that's what saved me. I guess that makes you a hero."

"I just did what anyone would have done," I said, brushing it off. "Besides. If I hadn't have done it, the school would have closed."

"I knew it wasn't just because you wanted to save me," Brianna said, climbing awkwardly to her feet.

"Madam Pomfrey says you should sit down for a few days."

"Who cares what she says?" Brianna said. "I want to get out of here. I've been cooped up since Halloween, for crying out loud. I want to get up and walk."

"Fair enough," I said. I too, found it hard with the initial few steps, but by the end of the corridor, we had left the Hospital Wing. "So, Gryffindor. Whereabouts are we headed?"

"Don't you have somewhere better to be?"

"Well, I screwed up and isolated all of my friends and now they all hate me, so no, I do not have somewhere better to be."

"At least you had friends. I didn't have any," she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes with one hand. The other was placed on her knee. "I had more back home with my parents."

"At least you had parents," I countered, and she looked surprised, and then I added, to what the best of my knowledge was true. "Grew up in multiple orphanages."

"At least you had a home to grow up in," said Brianna, smiling, and I was convinced she was pulling my leg, a feat confirmed by her laughter afterwards. "Hey. You sing?"

"Not well."

"I like to. Occasionally. Find an abandoned classroom and just belt it out. It helps to get rid of frustration, or at least I've found. Want to come and join me?"

"Sure," I said, shrugging. "I've got nothing better to do."

We found a spare room with little difficulty. It wasn't long before I realised that we had unintentionally ended up in the Room of Requirement – so naturally, this being the Room of Requirement, there was a Karaoke Machine waiting for us, and I saw Brianna's face light up. "Wicked," she couldn't help but complement the structure of the machine. "I've heard about these Karaoke Machines. Never got the chance to use them, never thought Hogwarts would have them either for that matter. My dad would never let me touch muggle stuff."

"Yet he let you read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."

"It's easier to lie about the origins of a book than it is to lie about a Karaoke Machine," she said dismissively. "So, what song should we sing?"

"I don't know, what are the options?"

"Well, we've got a few choices," said Brianna. "But I'm thinking this might work."

"Oh no, oh no, that's not going to work at all," I said, noticing the song she had chosen. "That's just mean. How am I supposed to do all the high-pitched vocals? I can't sing that high."

"You haven't gone through puberty yet, you can do it," said Brianna, with a shrug. "Look. I believe in you. Besides, it's only a Queen song. It's not that hard…"

"Yes, but this is _Bohemian Rhapsody._ It's very hard."

"Oh shut up. I thought you wanted to sing!"

 _("Is this the real life?_

 _is this just fantasy?_

 _caught in a landslide,_

 _no escape from reality….")_

Despite my misgivings about being unable to match Freddie Mercury's extremely talented vocal range, I found myself enjoying singing along with Brianna. She was a much more talented singer than I was, no doubt benefiting from the vast amount of practise that she had judging by the looks of things, and although she often laughed at my poor attempts to match her during the _Galileo_ bits, that yes, the karaoke machine decided to include. But by the end, it was one of the most fun experiences that I had earned at Hogwarts in a while. We sung along to a few more songs, pretty much all her suggestions - Sinead O'Conor's _Nothing Compares 2 U,_ Suzi Quatro's _Rock Hard_ andJoan Jett and the Blackhearts' _I Hate Myself for Loving You,_ among other hits from the 80s and early 90s that were mainly Brianna's choice. My contribution was sparse, if at all.

And eventually we decided to leave.

"So, what happens now?" Brianna asked, as we made our way to the door. "Once we leave the room?"

"Well," I said. "I'd like to think that I just made a friend. As things stand, I sure could use one."

"Same here," she said. "When do lessons start, by the way?"

"Not until Monday," I said. "We got back on the Friday, yesterday."

"Oh. So, it's still Saturday," she said. "Well, I'll keep in touch, I guess. See you around."

And with that, Brianna walked off, leaving me behind, needing a drink of water to recover from the singing that had drained my voice. I worked my way down to the kitchens, and true to form, stumbled into Renée _again._ She looked awkwardly at me, like she was hiding something. "Hey," I said. "I noticed you weren't at the welcoming feast last night. Is there anything wrong?"

"I just wanted some peace and quiet," I said.

"You've had peace and quiet for pretty much all of Christmas. I can't imagine being the only student at Hogwarts over Christmas."

"I wish," I said. "It's been anything but. I think things have gotten a little out of hand with my reputation."

"Ah," she said. "You're aware of what the others are saying about you?"

"Yeah. What happened? Did they like, get cursed over the winter break or something?"

"No," she said. "If you bothered to stop putting yourself first, you'd see that there were actually other people around. Or at least, that's what Alfie said. He was hurt by the fact that you cut him out of his life before Christmas. Real hurt. To be honest, I am, as well."

"I was…" I couldn't tell her, could I? My power. The Shine. I'd told Professor Torrance. What more difference could it make? But then again… the idea seemed ludicrous. I wasn't ready for her to believe me. In the end, I made a rash judgement not to. Part of me was nagging in the back of my mind, telling me this wasn't a good idea. Was it The Shine itself? I didn't know. But despite the fact that me and Renée remained on relatively good terms, I got the feeling that she was no longer a friend. An acquaintance, maybe? I just said, in the end, something simple. It was probably for the best. "I'm sorry. It was all my fault. I drove you all away."

"At least you're able to admit it," said Renée in the end. "Look, I don't know what I can do with Alfie, but maybe when lessons start you can do something? He said he wants to avoid you, so that's not a good sign. Although that said, I'm probably not the best person to ask about friendship advice all things considered."

"Hey," I said. "Evidently, neither am I."

She laughed. "You can say that again. Anyway. Just for the heads up, I'd stay clear of breakfast for a while. Flint's still pissed at you for some reason or another."

Man, Flint really knew how to hold a grudge. "That wasn't even my fault! He attacked me first! And I didn't even defend myself. That was all Ethan."

"Well, whatever you did or didn't do," said Renée, "He still blames you for some reason. So naturally, as Flint's the Quidditch captain…"

"The whole of Slytherin House hates me," I sighed. "Great. I should just walk around with a walking target on my back. Have I pissed off anyone in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor yet?"

"Katie made friends with Angelica Johnson, so you've pissed off her group for abandoning her," said Renée. "And that includes the Weasley Twins by extension."

"Oh joy. Let me guess, Ravenclaw hates me too because of Cho?"

"Not exactly, Ravenclaw's more indifferent. They're not regarded for sticking their noses into other people's business," said Renée. "You might get a few glares but that's going to be about it."

"Wow, I really managed to piss off the three most popular first years in Hogwarts, didn't I?" I said. "I'm kind of lucky Hufflepuff has a catch-all… unless pretty boy hates me now?"

Pretty boy had become my nickname for Cedric Diggory, but still, it was better than comparing him to a sparkling vampire. It felt weird – some students resembled their movie counterparts, others didn't, and I guessed it depended on how well Rowling fleshed them out as characters. Diggory was a weird hybrid between Robert Pattinson and as I mentioned before, Tom Cruise. "Pretty boy?" Renée asked.

"Diggory."

"No. But you'll probably get approached by him soon asking to call it off. Hufflepuff doesn't like that many inter-house fights to become public knowledge, so they're in damage control mode at the moment. If it gets ugly, they'll step in, but they prefer to let things resolve on their own as well. Will it be ugly?"

"That depends on Alfie. God, I hope not."

"Interesting."

"What?"

"You use God, everyone else uses Merlin as a curse word. Are you religious?"

"No, it's something that everyone uses," I said. "I know there are religious people at Hogwarts though. Not sure how many though."

"Around twenty."

"How do you know so many things?" I asked. "You seem to know everything about everyone."

"It's my job," she said, jokingly, and it was my turn to laugh. "They appointed me a House rep. Apparently Hufflepuff is the only house that has them. One student per year, changes each year apart from Diggory who's been one since he started at Hogwarts."

"I'm assuming this was something I missed because I didn't go to opening night?"

"Yeah," said Renée. "They ended up with me in the end even though I arrived later."

"Nice. Anyway, what happens now, between the two of us, I mean?"

"We can be friends if you want to be. It's just… I don't know if I want to lose everyone else. Most people in Hufflepuff have gone to Alfie's side despite the rules about not getting involved."

"Well that's just great."

"Who knows?" she said. "Maybe the feud will blow over quickly and we can move onto something else by dinner."

 **II.**

It didn't. If anything, it got worse.

With Alfie apparently being hugely influential despite only being a first year (the universe hates me, I'm sure), I was quickly banned from the football team despite being a founder, cut out of most Hufflepuff group meetings and gatherings and left alone. When lessons started out again, I was given the silent treatment, forced by teachers to pair up with other students. It turned out that Alfie was just as bad at Flint at holding grudges, and no matter what I did to try and explain to him about the events that happened and how they came to me abandoning him, I couldn't. Things got in the way, and things spiralled out of control.

There were curses hurled at me when teachers weren't looking, or when portraits were empty. Knights of armour were charmed to attack me when I walked past, and it was hard to tell which of the factions it was. To make matters worse, I couldn't even talk with them – Alfie had a habit of moving away when I was talking, and there was no act of plot contrivance that happens in movies – or for that matter, the books where the main characters who hate each other find them forced together to stop a greater threat. There was no greater threat to stop.

It just continued. The teachers either didn't know or ignored it, hoping the problem just went away. It continued up until the end of the year, which considering the high-stakes drama over Christmas, seemed almost anti-climactic. But then again, perhaps that was the point. Life wasn't like the movies, which skipped over the ordinary parts. I had to sit through the ordinary stuff first.

I concentrated especially hard on transfiguration, taking advantage of what I learned in the process. It was no surprise to see that it was the subject that I did well at, and it more than made up for my struggle in potions. Defence was okay too, thanks to the help provided from Professor Torrance who was kind enough to give me one-to-one classes outside of the scheduled lesson hours.

Yet I found out that he was leaving at the end of the year. I should have known this was coming, as Professor Quirrell would have to step in next, and there was that old curse that hung over the place. His classroom was empty, with all the classes having now finished, and I was able to catch him off guard. "Professor Torrance, is it alright if I ask why you're leaving this year? It's just, you've been really helpful to me in Defence. And I'd hate to see you leave…"

"I was doing my best to make it up to you for putting you in harms way over Christmas," said Professor Torrance. "And by the looks of things, I've succeeded. There is still room to work between the lines, but you have understood your basic spells rather well."

"Does anybody really fail their first year though?" I asked.

He smiled, not answering my question, and decided to change the subject. "I'm leaving because I got a call from an old friend of mine in Castle Rock, Alan Pangborn. He's the Sherriff over there. It's a small town, middle-end of nowhere in Maine. I wouldn't suppose you've heard of it."

"It was in your papers sir. I was trying not to look, but…"

"These things happen," understood The Professor. "No matter. I remember when I was your age, I was incredibly nosy. Had my face smashed in more times then I could count. It wasn't the easiest of childhoods. But you adapt, you evolve. Apparently, Alan needs help looking for The Deaver kid, who's been missing for a few days now. Got the same first name as me if you can believe it. Helluva coincidence. Claims it might be… right up my street, as he put it."

"Does he know about magic?" I asked, suspecting him correctly to be a muggle.

"He does. But he doesn't think it's a worldwide thing," he said, quickly covering it up. "It's more of a Castle Rock thing. He thinks. Imagine the Overlook curse applied to the whole town, with no way of stopping it. It's a nightmare. People die or go insane every other day, and Shawshank ain't helping matters much."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to go on holiday there anytime soon."

"I'm going to miss this place," he sighed, looking up at his office. His content that was there was empty, packed and ready to go. "But I have heard good things about Professor Quirrell. I'm sure you'll be in more than fine hands. He's one of the best. Or so I've heard."

He held out a hand, and I shook it goodbye, and out walked the last good Defence teacher that I'd get until my fourth year, when Lupin was due to arrive.

The leaving feast came next. Dumbledore announced Professor Torrance's departure, and then announced that Slytherin won the House Cup, and the Quidditch Cup much to the disgust of all the non-Slytherin students. Ravenclaw took home the Football Cup in its first outing, mainly due to the fact that Slytherin had remained unwilling to field a team after finding out that it was a muggle sport early on. There were however, whispers about Slytherin not winning something at Hogwarts, so I had to wonder if they would put their pride aside in favour of another trophy.

I was dropped from the team, and Alfie made it clear that as long as he was on it, I would never play for Hufflepuff. He sat at the other end of the table from me, surrounded by friends. I had half been tempted to go over and sit with Brianna at the Gryffindor table, who waved at me cheerfully when Dumbledore made an announcement that Hogwarts would not be closing as The Sickness had been cured, something that wasn't caught by others in the middle of all of the applause. As per my request, my name was kept out of it. I didn't want more attention.

And then came the train journey home the following morning. It was rather muted, all things considered, but that had been a theme for the final, end of year period. Silent and sombre, the students made their way back and said their farewells to the teachers that they liked. I found myself waiting by Renée once more. "So, what happens now?" I asked. "Are you going to live with the Bells?"

"I guess I am," she said. "But maybe I'll come over and say hi."

"As long as you don't show up on Christmas night," I said, and she chuckled.

"I don't know what came over me. I really don't," she said. "It was like, sometimes, I have these urges. Like to do things."

"Well, stay safe, I guess. I would come over, but I don't think I'll be welcome," I said.

"Hey," it was Alfie, approaching Renée before she could say anything further. "What are you doing with this loser? Come on. We've got better places to be, mate."

I glared at him. It was the first time we'd made anything more than eye contact in weeks, and it almost felt important. Like it was the final stare down before a duel in an old western movie. Maybe I had spoken too soon about avoiding him. "I think it's going to be my last chance to do this for a while," Alfie said, "But this is something I've been meaning to do ever since you abandoned me over Christmas."

I sensed that he was going to hit me in the face, so I moved, but found someone holding me in place with a spell. I literally couldn't move – Hagrid – the only teacher that was there, was busy in another part of the train, unable to keep an eye on what was happening, and I was struck, brutally, by Alfie, who had clearly been practising. My nose was broken, and then the spell was released, leaving me kneeling over on the floor. The crowd parted around me.

It was just like Flint at the start of the year, and sent me a very clear message. Be careful who you make friends with. It could come back to bite you.

 _("Some days are diamonds, some days are stones_

 _Sometimes the hard times won't leave me alone_

 _Sometimes a cold wind blows a chill in my bones_

 _Some days are diamonds, some days are stones.")_

 **End of Year One.**

 **To Be Continued in Year Two, Chapter Twenty.**

One of my main objectives with this arc was to introduce Aaron to his new life as Robin and explore the ups and downs that came with it. I didn't want my OC/SI to become all-powerful and godlike, he needed to struggle. I also didn't want Alfie, Renée and Robin's friendship to be an exact copy of the dynamic between Harry, Hermione and Ron, and friendship often isn't as straightforward as it seems, so I decided to split them up halfway through the year. It also helps explore what Alfie's character is like.

And of course, given the next King villain that will be making the jump across the pond from a certain small town in Maine, it seems only fitting that Robin Kennedy is now viewed as a loser by the students of Hogwarts. Even though he saved them. Second year will explore more behind his decision not to go public with his actions.


	20. Gimme Shelter

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twenty: Gimme Shelter**

 **I.**

The Man watched the boy and the girl get off the train. He was getting a few odd looks, his all-black, sleek, modern American costume made him look decidedly out of place in what was very much Victorian Britain, but it was clear that something had happened over the year. They were friends. And then they weren't. It looked like the boy had become a social outcast, only saying goodbye to one person, and heading off alone, from his observations. Nobody was stupid enough to do a direct taunt not with so many adults watching, but even a casual observe could notice the signs if they bothered to look. He was putting on a cheerful façade, but the scars were still there. Not literal scars of course. They were still to come.

The Girl had fit into society rather nicely, and The Man would have been relieved to have seen that Mallory's plan had actually worked had he not already known its outcome. Dumbledore couldn't resist the bait of a young, orphaned child in danger. Take away her memories, to the point where the bait didn't even know that she herself was a trojan horse, and then you have the perfect trap. It all fell into place so perfectly. She'd even befriended someone well enough to live with them over the Summer. There was even talks of adoption. Unfortunately, the Boy had lived, but then, he had expected him to, and would have been disappointed in him had he _not_ made it through his first year. Callahan was never the top of his class at anything, and possessing the flawed, drunk Irishman had been a last resort. Turning the school against the boy was something that he didn't even need to get involved in to make happen, but his status as an outsider would make him easier to pick off.

He walked up to The Boy, testing his luck, to see if he recognised who he was. To see if he still knew him. Under a pretence of course, because he was a master of pretend. It came naturally to him. He was able to create a fake disguise within seconds, formulating any possible outcome and alibi in his head. "Hey, kid. I don't know if you can tell from the accent, but I'm a bit lost. I'm looking for the Ministry of Magic?"

"You'd have to ask someone else, Sir," The Kid said, assuming him to be a lost American wizard who didn't know where he was going. "All I know is you're in the wrong place. We've just got back from Hogwarts. I'm sorry, I can't help you out much further, I have some people waiting for me."

"I bet you do," The Man said with a smile. He glanced over at The Girl, contemplating about whether or not he should approach her or not, and then tuned, walking away. That could easily be done another day. He had other means of contacting her. As the boy walked away, he couldn't resist adding, in his Texan drawl. "See you around kid."

He had other business to do. It was time to put the ritual in place. He couldn't afford to wait the full twenty-seven years. The creature had to come out of its hole, and it had to come out of its hole in time for The Boy's second year. And he knew just the way to make it happen.

Robin Kennedy had been lucky twice now, if he counted the last time they met. He would not be lucky again.

 **II.**

I paid no attention to the Man in Black who greeted me on the train, dismissing him as nothing more than a lost American tourist. I had departed the train with Brianna, who was excitedly bubbling about how Harry Potter was due at Hogwarts next year. "I'm looking forward to it. We could use some good news. It feels weird, like, everyone's been talking about it for months. They're running daily betting polls in the _Prophet_ about what House he's in. Obviously, it'll be Gryffindor."

"Of course," I said, careful not to address this situation in the way that sounded like _I knew,_ more like a statement that anyone could deduce. "He's a Potter. He's got Gryffindor in his blood."

"This is the worst time of year, for me," said Brianna, changing the subject. "Going home. My Dad doesn't even come to pick me up, but I just know… I've got to go back and see him."

"Damn. Are things that bad between you?"

"He's just a nightmare, has been ever since Mum died," said Brianna. "We live in a fairly remote area, which hasn't helped. It's why he never contacted me despite being messaged about The Sickness."

I had noticed that a few people had been more friendly than usual to greet those who had succumbed to The Sickness over winter, relieved to see them return home. "Well, if you ever want to pop by over the Summer," I said, scribbling down my address and handing it to Brianna, who took it, "I'll be there. I mean, I don't know what I'll be doing, but…"

"I don't know. My Dad has a strict policy about me leaving the house. I mean, I try to sneak out… but it's going to be hard this year. Do you have an Owl?"

"No," I said.

"You should get one," she said with a cheerful smile, walking away.

"With what money?" I called out to her, and she laughed. "I'm broke, remember?"

But she was gone. And soon I found myself waiting outside for Rocky, who had arrived in her Mini Cooper. After a hug, I climbed back into the car, hauling my trunk with me. "Interesting year?" she asked. "Sorry I couldn't write any letters. Managing this many kids at once is a chore. They can have their upsides, but downsides too."

"It was something different," I said, after a deliberation. We were stuck in traffic, and I said, "You didn't have to pick me up. I could have walked or got the bus."

"To Upton Park? You're crazy," Rocky said. "Besides, I don't mind. You're one of us, after all."

She turned the radio on, and I heard a flicker of static, that almost sounded like someone crying out for help, before it replaced itself with the normalcy of Radio 2. It was June 1991, and it was the first time that I found out in this timeline at least, that Arsenal had won the league a month earlier.

 _August, 1991_

My return to the Orphanage had been greeted with a warm welcome. At home, it was a completely different life to Hogwarts, and the nightmare that had been my second term was subsidized in favour of an enjoyable experience. It turned out that quite a few members of the Orphanage who I had met over Christmas had left, and I quickly found myself becoming friends with those who remained as they needed people to fill the void. We'd visit Blockbusters together, renting movies. A favourite among the younger generation was the Disney classics, like _Robin Hood, The Sword in the Stone_ and _The Black Cauldron._ We played football, sometimes at the back garden, sometimes in the park down the road.

It didn't matter the age differences of the kids, the sixteen-year olds were kind enough to hang out with the fourteen-year olds, and both groups with the eleven-year olds and younger, even if they were now relatively The elder teens helped Maria and Rocky with the food, and one fine afternoon, we were sat around the living room talking. Music was playing in the background on a cassette player, The Rolling Stones' _Gimme Shelter._ Not my choice, but you couldn't go wrong with The Stones. "So," Hassan said. "You actually introduced football to the school? Like, breaking decades of tradition and everything?"

I had told them about The Football Society. After all, how could I not? I couldn't exactly say much about anything else and they were keen to know what it was like. "Yeah. It's like, can you believe it? They've never had football before. Cause it's so remote and there's not even radios, half the people there had never even _heard of it_."

"I don't know about you but I think I'd quit," said Macey, one of the kids nearby. We didn't get on much, but he was an alright guy aside from the fact that he supported Tottenham, and that meant from 3pm on a Saturday, we were rivals. "Imagine not being able to even find out what the scores were."

"Apparently they're introducing radio for normal people next year according to the press," I said. "There was a big scandal about it in the local papers. The people up there are very backward."

"Jesus. Imagine being against radios. It's the 90s man, technology's evolved. You know they just made the internet public right? In America. Like this month. It's crazy. Like after months of talk about it. I don't know much about it, but it's some kind of world wide web thing where you can find out anything in the world. I mean, so much _more_ stuff is going to be available for us than before. I hope it finds a way over here properly.

"Yeah, but you need a computer first," I said.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Macey. "But anyway, what happened? Was there some resistance to the football? How'd you change their minds?"

"I showed them how good football could be," I said. "Or we did. Some people helped."

"So you're like Kevin Bacon," Hassan chimed in, and then clarified. "In _Footloose._ "

"Something like that," I said, not shying away from the comparison. "But yeah. You might as well call me Kevin Bacon."

Everyone around the table laughed, as _Gimme Shelter_ continued in the background. In the short moment of silence that was punctuated by the music, there was a distinct, clear knock at the door. Everyone turned in its direction, and Rocky was the first to climb to her feet to answer it. She walked over, and we all did our best to look to find out who it was without it being too obvious.

"It might be someone new," Macey whispered, as she was just out of earshot. "We haven't had anyone new since before Christmas. More people have started aging out or getting adopted, man, I'm telling you, it absolutely sucks being around here when everyone else is out."

"That was your fault for getting expelled," scolded Hassan. "But shh, I think they're saying something."

"Don't worry," I could just about make out what Rocky was saying from where I was sat. "You'll find yourself right at home here. Most of our residents are friendly, and more than willing to help you."

He wore a red bomber motorcycle jacket that was a few sizes too big, and a pair of well-worn jeans. He only carried one suitcase, and waved awkwardly at us. "Hi," he said. "I'm Bobby."

"Good to meet you, Bobby," I was the first to speak, waving my hand in his general direction. He returned the gesture with his free right hand.

And that was how we met Bobby Whitmore, the only new person to join Small Heath Orphanage in 1991. So naturally, with fate being fate - a few days later, I found out that he was a wizard.

It was purely accidental. I'd been helping him unpack, as he had a couple of heavy items in his bag, and I noticed his wand fall out of his suitcase. We were the only two in the room, and he quickly scurried to hide it, and then looked up at me. "You don't want to know what that is? It's normally the first question people ask me when they see it."

I reached into my back pocket and showed him the wand that I had of my own. I'd been a good Hogwarts student, and hadn't used it at all. "Don't worry, I know exactly what it is."

"You're a wizard too?" Bobby asked. "What are the odds?"

"Pretty slim," I said. "Seems like this orphanage seems to have the highest concentration of wizards in a muggle area in West London."

"Just the two of us?"

"Yeah."

"Are you a Hogwarts student, then?" he asked, keen to find out.

"Yeah. I'm going to start my second year soon."

"Nice. I've always dreamed of going to Hogwarts. I missed out on last year but I can't wait to get in this year, I've already asked Professor Dumbledore, and he approved it."

"Don't get many people joining late," I said. "Can I ask why?"

"I had to look after my brother last year, couldn't leave him behind. It was pretty tough. How do you look after a ten-year-old without y'know, any parents, or a home? We'd move from town to town."

I noticed that his brother wasn't with us, but before I could raise the elephant in the room, Bobby said, "Oh, he got adopted by somebody else. They couldn't look after two so wanted me or him. I told them to take him."

"I'm sorry, mate," I said. "You reckon you'll see him again?"

"I don't know. Difficult to say," said Bobby. "Best chance I've got is that if he's a wizard too. Is that likely?"

"There's a few siblings that are magical," I said. "But most of them come from all magical families. Not sure if there's many, you know, normal people…"

I wasn't too keen on the term _muggle._ It felt derogatory almost, especially in the way it was used by some wizards. "Well here's hoping I guess," Bobby said. "You don't know how tempted I was to leave my brother behind when I was on the platform. Hogwarts seemed so magical. I knew I couldn't bring him. I felt so guilty."

"Hey, everyone would have been tempted. You made the right choice to stick with him," I said. "He'll never forget that. What's his name?"

"Georgie," said Bobby. "I mean, George. But everyone who knows him calls him Georgie."

"Georgie it is then. The Whitmore Brothers," I said. "Wizards extraordinaire."

Bobby laughed. "So, go on then. You've been at Hogwarts for a year already. What's it like, what house are you in?"

"Hufflepuff," I said. "It's alright. Got its drawbacks. It's not a perfect school like I thought it was going to be, but for what it lacks it makes up for with pretty much everything else. From a location perspective, it's wonderful. You're waking up each morning with some of the best views in Scotland, especially if you get one of the Houses in the towers."

"I like the sound of that," Bobby said, with a smile. "The tower houses are Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, right?"

"That's right," I said. "So… anything else you want to know about the school while we're here?"

"Everything."


	21. A Stephen King Story

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twenty-One: A Stephen King Story**

 **I.**

It wasn't long before our Hogwarts letters came through the post, and Rocky took me and Bobby to a nearby McDonalds to celebrate with a happy meal. It felt hard keeping the secret from the rest of the kids, but so far, they hadn't latched onto it. "Happy birthday, Robin," said Rocky, glancing down at me as she handed me the food. I took it, appreciative.

"It's my birthday?"

"Your birthday wasn't on any official records that I could find, in fact, you _had no_ official records that I could find, so I just assumed to set your birthday to the day that you arrived at the Orphanage, which was today. Sorry. I should have told you earlier, but I got wrapped up in it."

"Oh yeah, that's a good point," I said. I hadn't considered when Robin's birthday was, mine was sometime in October, which I'd told Brianna when she'd tried to get me to confirm. So, I had two birthdays now? I decided to point it out. "But it was October. Sorry. I should have said something. I just didn't want that big of a fuss."

Rocky gave me a sharp look. "It's your birthday, kid. You've got to have something to look forward to and people to celebrate it with. I figured I'd combine the two if you're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow," Rocky said. "And I think I might actually be able to take you. How does that sound?"

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I know you might feel uncomfortable going back."

"It's fine," said Rocky. "Besides, it's been so long that chances are, they've just forgot about me."

"From what I've found, wizards tend to have long memories," I said. "Are you sure you'll be fine?"

"Look, Robin. I'm an adult. I can handle myself," she said. "Besides. Wouldn't want nobody to beat you up again, would we?"

"Sure, why not?" Bobby said. "It's going to be pretty good to be back. I still remember my first time like it was yesterday. What about you, Robin?"

"Something like that," I said. "Do you still have your stuff from your first visit?"

"No. It's lost."

"The school-"

"They're supplying me with an emergency grant after recognising my circumstances," said Bobby, shrugging. "I guess after everything that happened, It's the least that they could do."

 **II.**

Diagon Alley, again. The second time around I was more prepared for than the first, although I kept squinting for Hagrid and Quirrell, maybe even trying to get a glimpse at The Boy Who Lived. Just out of curiosity, more than anything. Bobby was eager, entranced by the doorway opening, relieved to be back in the world after all hope was lost. It still had that sense of wonder for him. And me, too. There's nothing quite like seeing the back end of the Leaky Cauldron split apart, revealing the densely packed, cobbled streets.

Rocky, Bobby and I went to Gringotts first. They considered Bobby's status as an orphan and were able to get the money out fairly quickly. But just as we were leaving, I saw someone who looked like an older version of Rocky, and realised without hesitation that it must be her mother. There was that jarring look of disapproval, but apart from that, she didn't stare longer than a few seconds. "Hey," I said, glancing up at Rocky. "Ignore it."

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" she said cheerfully with a smile, and flipped the bird in her direction when her back was turned. She looked down at us and added, "Don't let me catch you doing that just because I did it. I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

"I think both of us would have done the same," Bobby said, in all honesty. But the real surprise for Rocky was walking out of the door to find her younger sister, who I assumed was Daphne Greengrass, waiting outside the bank for her mother. She tried to look away and pretend that Rocky didn't exist, but curiosity got the better of her and she advanced over.

"I hear you're going by Rocky, now," said Daphne, doing her best not to look as though she was talking to her. It felt like a conversation out of a spy movie, when the lead investigator meets with a mole in a parking lot to disclose sensitive information. "It suits you. Who are these two strays you take around with you?"

"We're orphans," said Bobby, butting in. "And you know you can look at her when you talk to her, right? She's right here. I may be new to all of this, but in general society, it's considered pretty rude."

"Well, we're not in _general society,_ " said Daphne with a scowl. "Some of us have standards. I would prefer to keep my reputation intact before I go to Hogwarts, unlike some of us. I heard about what happened to you last year Kennedy. If I were you, I wouldn't want to make the same mistake twice."

"Believe me, I've been punched in the nose twice last year, I'm more than happy to not repeat the experience a third time," I said.

"Well as a word of advice, when you're going past Knockturn, that's where Flint and his friends are, so you'll want to stay on the other side of the road and hope that they're not paying attention to you," said Daphne. "But don't tell anyone I said that. Also, don't expect many favours at school, either. Consider this a one-time advice, free of charge. Next time, it'll cost you."

"Cost me what?"

"A favour," she said, and glanced behind us into Gringotts. "Now I'd better scarper, if I were you. Mother can only ignore your existence for so long, Rocky."

Rocky smiled warmly at her, despite the cold reception that she got in return, and headed off. "Mate," Bobby said as we walked. "This society is messed up. Like, there's a class system in the normal world, but here, it's like taking it to another level entirely."

"I know," I said. "I can't believe it. It's like they're still stuck in the eighteenth century."

"Eighteenth? They haven't even heard of the seventeenth yet," said Rocky, not caring who heard her. She was bold as she was fearless. "It's so messed up here. Like, I get magic is wonderful, and I can see why it's got its strengths, but everyone tries to pretend that it's not without its drawbacks. Something needs to change when a mother won't look her own daughter in the eye and her sister is afraid to talk to her on the street."

"We should start a revolution," I suggested, offhandedly. "Sit-ins. Protests, marches, the whole thing."

"Maybe when you're older," laughed Rocky. "Look at you, you're twelve years old. What do you expect to do? Punch the Minister of Magic in the face?"

"He's got a very punchable face," I said, as we were walking past a _Daily Prophet_ news outlet which ran the title _Fudge Prepares to Announce Sweeping New Tax Reforms._ So the wizarding world still had taxes, it seemed. I didn't stop to see what they were, but I guessed knowing Fudge from the books, it was likely very pro-upper class. It wasn't long before we came across Knockturn Alley and Daphne's foresight paid off handsomely. Skirting around a large crowd of tourists from a foreign country, who were here looking for The Boy Who Lived, we left Flint and company in the dust before ducking into the bookshop on the other side. It wasn't long before we acquired all of the books and items on the school list for the both of us, taken largely from second-hand stores and the discount section, but by the end, me and Bobby were walking away content with our purchases. As usual, there was nothing unnecessary bought. A coffee could wait until it got home. It was too cold for Ice Creams.

And I never complained. I knew the strain that the Orphanage was under pressure, and a few weeks later when we were at the train station about to head through the barrier, Rocky pulled us both aside with our trollies and began to tell us the cold hard truth. "I know it's probably going to be a lot to take in, but I think I should tell you. We might be at risk of closing the orphanage by the end of next year. I mean, we're sorted in regards to the rent at the moment, but the landlord thinks he can make more money out of the place especially with the prices in the area are skyrocketing. He's losing us money here and we're not the only orphanage in this situation. Plus, Bobby's been the only intake we've had for a while, and we've got five more due to age out before. By Christmas we'll be under ten, I reckon. And that's not good."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" I asked, and I could tell Bobby was thinking the same thing.

"No, you two will have more than enough on your hands as it is," said Rocky. "What with Hogwarts and all. I'm sure myself and Maria will be more than able to raise enough funds between ourselves. It's just tiring that's all, between this and my second job…"

"Your second job?" I hadn't seen this. "Bloody hell, Rocky. I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"That's because I never told you," she said.

"And your family won't give you anything?" I said.

"No. Not a single sickle," said Rocky. "Not that I'd ever take their dirty money, anyway. Most of it's won from book-making. Illegal betting on Quidditch matches. They pay Fudge a few galleons each month and he lets them keep up their work. But enough of that. I just wanted you two to know so you don't come back and are shocked that the Orphanage isn't there anymore. But don't worry, I've got all summer to think of alternative arrangements. Someone's going to want to take care of you two. My incredible boys."

I felt my eyes welling up at the prospect of losing the Orphanage. Although I'd spent more time at Hogwarts than at the Orphanage, it had felt like a true, real home to me, accepting me when the school didn't. She hugged us both, and bade us goodbye, saying that she was late to her other job, but never saying what it was. I'd have to find out later.

"I can't believe it," said Bobby once we made it through the walls and onto the platform. He elaborated, rather theatrically, raising in tempo. "I hate it, I hate everything!"

Before I could stop him, he pushed his trolley forward and was lost to the crowd, leaving me alone. I was about to go after him, when Brianna approached me from behind, tapping me on my shoulder and almost causing me to jump. "Hey," she said as we hugged. "Long time no see, Robin."

She had grown, but I noticed she was tired, and her eyes were bloodshot. She needed sleep. "Same to you, Brianna."

"Did you just isolating another one of your friends?"

"No," I said, realising that she'd seen Bobby run away crying from me and entirely out of context. "We both just learned some bad news and he overreacted."

"Oh no! What bad news?"

"We might not have a home to get back to this year. I think he took it pretty hard."

"Well don't just stand there, get after him!" insisted Brianna, too caught up in the moment to follow up on why and so I did, following her onto the train. We put our luggage on board fairly easily as we had both seen sense to arrive early, and we found Bobby crying in the toilets at the back of the train.

"Bob," I said, knocking on the door, using a shorter version of what was most likely a nickname already. "Hey, Bob? You alright? We're right here, mate. If you need us."

"Who's we? Is Rocky with you too? I want her to go away!"

"No, I'm not Rocky," said Brianna. "I'm Brianna, Robin's friend! He told you about me, right?"

That was true. I had told him about her, but I choose to interrupt." "She's the one that I told you was like a female Freddie Mercury crossed with Joan Jett."

"A female Freddie Mercury?" said Brianna. "And I think he'd be offended at comparing anyone to him. I'm offended at you comparing me to him."

"Hey, you're a good singer. Best I've heard at Hogwarts so far."

"Only one you've heard singing at Hogwarts so far," said Brianna, earning a laugh from Bobby, of all people. He opened the door, and I could see his face. There was evidence of tears everywhere.

"Hey, good to see you, Bobby," I said.

"By a female Freddie Mercury," said Bobby, glancing at Brianna and then at me. "I thought you meant the moustache part."

It was our turn to laugh. We didn't even notice that we had an observer until we turned around. A red-haired boy, no more than eleven, who looked familiar. Hand-me down clothes, the whole thing, but I was too caught up with Bobby and Brianna to notice who he was. "Hey," he said, awkwardly. "Are you guys heading to a compartment? Is it okay if I hang out with you? Everywhere seems to be full."

"Sure," I said. I didn't catch his name when he introduced himself as I found myself distracted. A black crow flew past the window of the train. Something caught my eye outside of the window as the train sped past a movie theatre. It had giant billboards advertising Rob Reiner's _Misery,_ a film about a writer who became trapped by an avid fan.

And I don't know why now, why here on this train, but knowledge somehow flooded back to me by what was written underneath the words _Misery._ In bold font, clearly highlighted, it read _"Based on a Stephen King Story._ "

Based on a Stephen King Story.

Based on a Stephen King Story.

The same Stephen King who had wrote _Carrie_ , _The Shining_ , and basically every other famous horror novel. One of America's most famous writers. I put the pieces together, dismantling the memory block on my mind as if a curse had been lifted past its expiry date.

Oh Crap.

There were countless of theories about how King's work was all interconnected, taking place in the same universe, usually in Maine. But obviously in this reality, some things were more different than others. Out of all of the fictional universes that could have crossed over with Harry Potter, Why did it have to be one of the most unforgiving? Why couldn't it have been something simple, like _Scooby Doo_?

I put together the dots of The Overlook Hotel and Professor Torrance, and the similarities Jack Nicholson. Back in my world, Nicholson had played a Torrance, the one who had gone insane. Jesus. As hard as it was to believe, I had just lived through a year of _The Shining,_ the granddaddy of them all. Most of the subtle references, winks and nods that felt familiar, the _REDRUM_ in my dreams, the power that I had, the freaking _Shine_ , all of it was from a Stephen King novel.

I wasn't the biggest expert on King, I hadn't read all of his works. I hadn't read _The Dark Tower_ series yet. I was meaning to for the movie with Idris Elba back on my Earth, but when it came out and bombed I kind of lost interest. There were other bits and pieces that were still missing, like I still wondered what the whole thing had to do with the small town of Twin Peaks and who the other dead body belonged to that me and Alfie found on our first night, nor what was up with a few other things. But the bulk of my questions had been answered in one swift blow, even if I didn't necessary like the answer that much.

"Robin?" Brianna couldn't help but ask me, noticing I was distracted from the conversation, pulling myself back into reality. "What did you say earlier about that you might not have a home to come back to?"

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**

And Robin finally knows. This is sort of an alternate timeline – most events happen the same way they did on Aaron's Earth - so some Stephen King novels exist in novel format in this world and some don't. _The Shining_ doesn't exist as a novel, but _Misery_ still exists for example. King wrote something else like Kubrick adapted something else instead of _The Shining_. And I didn't want to give Robin knowledge of _every_ Stephen King novel, because of course, his life sucks, so he doesn't know about what happens in _The Dark Tower._

As to why he never found out before and why he's only finding out now, all will be revealed further down the line.


	22. Domino Effect

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twenty-Two: Domino Effect**

 **I.**

I told Brianna about the incident with the orphanage being low on funding, and she balked. "I'd offer you to come and live with me, but my Dad'll probably say no. Plus, given all you've heard about my dad, you're better off living on the streets with Bobby."

"Hey," Bobby interjected. "I wasn't always _living on the streets._ And the term is rough sleeping, by the way. There's always going to be another orphanage that we can rock up at."

"I will miss that place though," I said. "And Rocky's great. I'd hate to see anything bad happen to her."

"True that," Bobby said. "I don't know what I'd do without her. She's awesome. I don't know how she does it, looking after us. I know that there are less and less of us each year, but still…"

"We should probably find a compartment," Brianna said. "Oh, and Bobby? Fair warning, this is your last chance to get out while you can. You just befriended the two least popular students in Hogwarts."

"I think plenty of students heard my breakdown in the toilet," he said. "There's no way I'll be able to live that down. But let's be honest, I was never going to bail on you guys anyway. Robin's been good to me. Plus, can you imagine how awkward it would be if we did fall out?"

"Yeah, what with you two living together at the orphanage and all," said Brianna, as we walked down the train corridor. We found a compartment in the end, but there was somebody there. The red-head who was with us had left during our walk without saying goodbye, and I heard him mumbling about hearing that Harry Potter was on the train this year and he wanted to go and look for him and say hi. I was half tempted myself, I wasn't going to lie – there's always part of me that wanted to befriend the main character in the story, but I didn't want to get dragged into all the chaos that Harry was involved in.

It was bad enough as it was, what with all the Stephen King shit going on. Maybe I could let Harry take care of both Quirrell and whatever King stuff came my way this year. I was hopeful that _The Shining_ was just a one-time thing, but again, if the last year was anything to go by, I wouldn't be so lucky.

I could only hope that it was one of his works that wasn't a straightforward horror. Maybe we could get a year focused _On Writing_? And he'd be a new English professor at the school? That would be nice. Just a simple breather, please. I could use it given that there was plenty of things to come in the Potterverse, still.

"Is it alright if we sit here?" I said, asking the kid. He was a first year, and how he managed to find a compartment on his own and to himself, I'll never know. He was brown-haired, well-built and had glasses. "Not having much luck finding other spaces at the moment."

"Sure," said the kid. "I'm Elijah, but all my mates call me Eli."

"Good to meet you," I said. "I'm Robin. These guys are Brianna and Bobby."

They both said hello to Elijah and sat down. Elijah was already nose-deep in a book. "You know first years don't cover that until after Christmas, right?" Brianna said. "Why so keen?"

"My parents," said Elijah, frowning at them. "Can you believe this? They asked the Trolley Lady to come by every few hours and check to see if I was still reading. They don't want me to stop learning."

"Ouch. That must suck. Does she actually come by and check?"

"Only once, but she hasn't been by with the sweets yet," said Elijah, "According to my older brother, anyway. He's in Ravenclaw. So I'm gonna read until she does and then talk, if that's alright? Apologies if I don't seem too social at the minute."

"No worries," Brianna said. "Home life sucks. I can't imagine my Dad controlling me at Hogwarts as well. We got you."

The train continued, rolling on. I didn't dream this time, and wondered if that was a good sign. However, it wasn't long before naturally, trouble arrived, in the form of Marcus Flint. "Well if it isn't Robin Kennedy," he said, addressing me with a look of disdain. "Looks like you've found some new friends. Hanging out with Marshall, as well? I guess losers stick together after all."

He drew his wand, but instantly, I noticed, Bobby punched him in the face before he could react. Flint was struck hard, and lashed out, but before he could make contact with Bobby, he found every wand in the compartment trained on him. Bobby recoiled, his wrist bruised. "And that's why we use magic," I said, as he couldn't help but let out a sharp bark of laughter. Realising he was outnumbered and outgunned (I needed to learn the wizard term for that), and that even he couldn't take all of us on, he retreated, muttering something about not hearing the last of this. This was Marcus Flint, but for the moment, we had defeated him.

Bobby had defeated him. "That was awesome, Bobby!" Brianna praised him. "Where'd you learn to punch like that?"

"I got into more than my fair share of fights when I was younger," Bobby said. "With bigger guys than him, too. Sides. You guys looked as though you needed the help."

"I guess you haven't got much choice about leaving us now," I said. "You too, Elijah. He's seen you with us. Sorry."

"No worries," said Elijah. "I mean, three friends are better than nothing right?"

"I hear Harry Potter's on the train this year," said Brianna after a while, deciding to change the subject. "I think we should go and look for him."

"What, so you can get an autograph?" I asked.

"What's the big deal about him, anyway? He's just a kid," said Bobby. "But I guess if you want. We can entertain you."

I could tell this was something that Brianna was eager to do, so we obliged her, and exited the compartment, heading off in left towards the back of the train. First years weren't at the front, that was for the prefects and the higher years. We were only roughly in the middle of the train by pure chance, thanks to meeting Elijah. "Come on, Eli," Bobby said, gesturing to him. "You're not gonna get spotted. We'll cover for you, anyway. It'll be fun. An adventure."

"An adventure sounds fun. But I don't like the idea of getting caught."

"Well then it wouldn't be an adventure, would it?" I said.

"How you weren't sorted into Gryffindor I'll never know," said Brianna. "Like. Hufflepuff of all things. Why?"

"Because why not?" I said, and she laughed.

We only got a few compartments down before I realised that we were missing somebody however, in the form of Bobby, who was looking shocked, like he'd seen a ghost, into a compartment that was right next to ours.

"Bobby?" Elijah said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he said, laughing. "Nothing's wrong. Oh, that's just brilliant. I can't believe it. I cannot believe it. What are the odds?"

"What are the odds of what?" I asked, following his gaze into the compartment, noticing someone who was sitting there, talking to a couple of first years. It was someone who looked like a younger version of Bobby, only by a year, and I could see his face light up when he too, recognised Bobby sitting there.

It was Bobby's brother. George. Georgie. The boy who he never thought he'd see again. "You bastard," I said, as George opened the door to give Bobby a hug. "You lucky sonuvabitch. What are the odds?"

"Great," said Brianna. "Now there are two of them."

"Hey Georgie," Bobby said. "Long time no see."

"I can't believe they let you back!" Georgie was just as excited to see Bobby as Bobby was to see him. "That's awesome. We can be in the same year, and everything. That's what I hated at primary school. You were never in any of my classes."

"Well, better late than never, I guess," Bobby said, a warm smile on his face. "Looks like we've got a lot of catching up to do. Who're your friends?"

"Lily," Georgie said, pointing them out one by one. "Mal and Stevie. I mean, their real names are Malcolm and Steven, but Mal and Stevie sounds easier to say. Plus I like nicknames. Nicknames are cool. Your friends are more than welcome to join us, by the way. Come on. I need them to stop talking about football for a second."

"Football, huh? What teams do you guys support?"

"Sunderland," Mal said, and then added, "Unfortunately. We aren't having the best season at the moment. Stevie here supports Palace. They came third, can you believe it? That was insane. What about you?"

"Arsenal."

"Well that makes things interesting, don't it?" Mal said. "An Arsenal, A Palace and a Sunderland fans walk into a bar. Sounds like the beginning of a joke my Dad used to make. Come on, guys. It's cool."

"I don't want them here," said Lily. She was blonde-haired and a first year, but I didn't remember her from the books. Probably a good thing not to have too many characters named Lily running about. "Sorry, guys. My brother, Dennis, graduated from Hogwarts last year, he's now playing Quidditch for the New Zealand team, but I heard some screwed up things about you guys. Especially you two. I'm out."

She pointed at Brianna and me, and Georgie looked surprised. "What screwed up things?"

"I'd like to know too, actually," I said. "What screwed up things have people been saying about me and Brianna? I know we've got a bit of a reputation of being losers, but…"

"Nobody's really sure," said Lily, trying to cover her tracks, clearly uncomfortable about being called out. "But I'm going to sit somewhere else. I'm sorry, guys. I don't want to… y'know, be seen with you? If it makes sense."

" _Jesus,_ " I said, once she'd awkwardly left, moving inbetween the others and running down the corridor. "What's Alfie been saying about me now?"

"Hell if I know," Brianna said, and then turned to everyone else in the room. "Guys, I'm going to give you the same warning that I already gave Elijah and Bobby. If you stick with us this year, your lives are going to be hell. So if you want out, now's the time."

Mal and Stevie both looked at each other and decided to leave, following Lily. Georgie tried to plead with them to stay, but they were having none of it. He frowned when Bobby glanced at him, saying, "Go, Georgie."

"I'm going nowhere," said Georgie. "I want to stay with my brother-"

"It'll be suicide for you," said Bobby. "I'd go with you, but I broke Flint's nose. There's still time for you to go."

"You've taken our compartment," said Georgie, and I could almost see that his eyes were watering. "Where are we going to go now?"

"I don't know," said Bobby, glancing down the hallway and I followed his gaze, to see that a Slytherin student – who was no doubt friends with Flint, walk towards us. "Come on, Georgie. Go. We can talk at Hogwarts, right?"

He threw his arms up in defeat, and headed out of the room.

"I hated that," Bobby said once he had gone. "You don't know how badly I wanted him to stay."

"You did good," I said. "I'm not sure that we're able to take whatever Flint's going to throw at us. I wouldn't want a relative in the way when the storm comes."

"When the storm comes?" Elijah said. "You sound like he's a Death Eater. He's just a school kid."

"His family are all Death Eaters," said Brianna, scowling. "And when traditions start they don't usually stop. Plus, you weren't there last year. He was brutal. I remember Marcus Fletcher. He spent three months in hospital. He was in the hospital almost as long as people who had The Sickness were, and he didn't even get it. Want to know why Flint did him in?"

She paused, adding to the tension. I too, waited, but then again, that was because I didn't know what had happened either. I was too busy wrapped up in my own problems that year to notice anyone else's, and that had been my mistake. "He had the same first name as him," Brianna finished. "That was it. That was all he had to do. He just had to exist."

"And he didn't get in trouble?"

"There wasn't any proof," said Brianna.

"Then how do you know it was him?"

"I heard him bragging about it a few days after," said Brianna. "Unfortunately, I can't tell anyone official. Nobody believes a word I'll say 'cause of my Dad. They think I'm insane, like him."

"Is it too late to change schools?" Elijah said, earning a laugh from everyone. We were now all in Georgie's old compartment. "This sucks. From what I've said to everyone about this it sounds like an old boy's club. Everyone's got their own social circles. It's so bad that I haven't been here for a train ride and I'm already running into trouble. You know what we should do? We should start a revolution."

"I like the sound of that," said Brianna. "But that's going to be hard."

"But not impossible," Elijah pointed out. "Revolutions have happened in tougher places than a magic school. Russia, for instance. What, don't look at me like that. Just because I'm from a wizarding family doesn't mean I can't read up on muggle stuff too."

 **II.**

By the time we had arrived at our seats – with Bobby having gone with the first years as he was technically not a second year despite being the same age – I had even bought into the Harry Potter hype train. It was like seeing a movie star in person, a childhood hero of mine. In that, I had in common with everyone else in this room. The Boy Who Lived. He'd walk in through the door, and be sorted into Gryffindor, and history would play out just the way it did in the books. I was sure of that. I wasn't going to intervene. I didn't want to make things worse than they were in canon, and omnipresent knowledge isn't always a boon. Plus, I didn't want to go up against Voldemort in my first year.

I wasn't ready. I'd barely survived a Defence Arts Teacher, hell, I'd barely survived _Alfie Snyder._ Voldemort was on another level entirely. I couldn't look Quirrell in the eye for the whole ceremony, just in case, he worked out something more than what he should have done. I'd leave Voldemort to Harry. It would be simple.

And then it was the moment. The Boy Who Lived finally arrived. He was lead in. Hushed whispers filled the air, and I wondered how he must feel being judged. I waved at Bobby and Elijah, who were near the back. Although Bobby was a year older, he wasn't taller than any of the first years so he didn't stand out much. Not giving a damn what anyone else thought, Bobby waved back, fully aware that people were judging him for his association with me. Brianna was sat over at the Gryffindor table, meaning that for all intents and purposes I was alone. Hopefully, the two of them would end up in each of our respective houses. We could use all the allies we could get.

McGonagall began to call them forward. I noticed the red-head hanging near Bobby, alone and friendless. Yeah, he couldn't have been Ron Weasley. Ron Weasley was meant to have been near Harry Potter, yet Harry was not near him. I couldn't make out who he was standing next to from where I was, someone with blonde hair? Lily, maybe? Hermione Granger got called up next, and I noticed that she looked less sure of herself than in the films, her hair bushier too. She was sorted into Gryffindor, and ran over. I made a mental note for Brianna to try and befriend her, but not too by too much – we didn't want her to not end up helping Harry and Ron. That would be a colossal disaster of epic proportions.

It wasn't long before Elijah was sorted, and he ended up in Hufflepuff to my relief, running over to sit down by m. His surname, it turned out, was Hanbrough, which put him in-between Hermione and Harry in the list. And the whole Great Hall went silent when Harry's name was called forward, and The Boy Who Lived sat down on the chair.

"He's even got the scar _,"_ said one student near me, keeping his voice low. "Wow."

I looked over at Brianna, who had an excited, eager, almost fangirlish look of anticipation on her face. The long time that the hat took to announce Harry's house wasn't a surprise, I knew that it was torn between two houses, Gryffindor and Slytherin. But the house that he had been sorted into? That on the other hand, was very much a surprise.

" _SLYTHERIN!"_

The entire school was dead silent, even Dumbledore himself. I don't think anybody, certainly not myself – had been expecting that.


	23. Aamon Is

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twenty-Three: Aamon Is**

 **I.**

"Can you believe it?" it was Elijah who was the first to speak to me, oblivious to the looks that he was getting. "Harry Potter, Slytherin. That's going to be the talking point for the decade for sure."

"Hey, shh," I said, wondering what the hell had just happened. Draco Malfoy had previously ended up in Slytherin, no surprises there of course, and when Ron Weasley's name came forward I realised what had gone wrong, and why Harry Potter canon had been torpedoed into oblivion with one fell swoop. The red-haired kid who had talked to us on the train had been Ron Weasley. We never got a name until we arrived at Hogwarts, but in those brief few moments before he had gone to look for Harry, it had cost him and Harry their friendship. I didn't know what had happened that had led to that stage, maybe Draco Malfoy found him first? It seemed the logical answer, as Malfoy was now introducing Harry to them like he'd known him all his life.

But then again, it could be Draco Malfoy. Bobby was the first up of The Whitmore Brothers, and he was sorted into Gryffindor along with his younger brother, Georgie. I noticed that somewhere along the way, Georgie's friends, Mal and Stevie, got sorted into Ravenclaw and Slytherin respectively. Potentially blowing any chance of friendship that they had with Georgie.

Dumbledore gave his usual speech about avoiding the third-floor corridor at the end of the meal, and then we were let loose to return to our beds. I must have been the first Hogwarts student not to, repeating the same strategy that I did last year with Alfie, heading away from the pack. However, two corners later, I saw him there waiting for me. "Well look at what the cat dragged in. I thought you might try and pull the same trick that you did last time with someone else. It's how you make friends, isn't it? Putting them in danger."

"It wasn't my fault."

"It wasn't your fault," said Alfie, mockingly. "Yeah, it was. Let me guess, you're going to the Third Floor Corridor? Eager to get the jump on everyone?"

"No," I said. "I'm going to the library."

"Already? On the first night? Wow, when I thought you were a loser I didn't realise just how accurate that was," said Alfie. "Well I guess you're off the hook for now, at least. Enjoy your books. Merlin knows, they're the only friends you're going to have this year."

"I suppose it's too late for me to apologise?" I said.

Alfie didn't even dignify that with an answer.

 **II.**

The sooner I could find out what Stephen King world I was in, the better. I'd already established _The Shining_ as being present but what else could I gather from the books? My first point of call was _Hogwarts: A History._ I'd read it before but I was curious to see what I'd missed, and I noticed a chapter that I'd skim read over last time detailing disappearances at Hogwarts in Nineteen Seventy-One, aka the year that James Potter was sorted into Hogwarts. I breathed a sigh of relief almost immediately… I didn't remember much about _IT,_ which was kind of bizarre when you consider that one of the last movies that I saw before finding myself back in 1990 _was_ the 2017 film, but I knew that the creature only showed up every 27 years. At this rate, I wouldn't have to worry about IT showing up for a good few years, if the disappearances were correct.

I was surprised that the library was even open as I read by candlelight, the empty nature of the room adding to its foreboding feel. The dust hadn't been fully cleared yet from the summer, and behind me, a few books fell off the wall. It was a normal occurrence so I dismissed it, especially with so many Hogwarts reading material having a mind of their own. My light flickered, but then again, I paid that no mind, it was magically enhanced to not go out. An eternal flame for the students at Hogwarts so that they would never lose their way. I had also bought a wind-up torch, which created its own power, so I was able to get around the electricity rules and had been winding it up on my way to give me some added, natural light.

I read a small section about a rabid dog that had to be put down and crossed off _Cujo._ I also crossed off _Misery_ and _The Shining,_ because we'd had the latter and the former was a book – soon to be a movie – in this world. I made a list of the King novels that I'd read – _It, The Green Mile,_ _11/22/63, Under the Dome, Mr. Mercedes_ andquite a lot of his newer work, the kind that you'd find on sale in charity shops fairly easily, but not a lot of his older work. Knowing my luck, I ruled out a few of the more straightforwardly obvious ones straight away, _11/22/63_ went as did _Under the Dome._ There was no Dome blocking people from exiting the building and neither was there any JFK-like figure in the wizarding world that could change history if he was still alive, but just in case, I drew up a list of Ministers who had died in office, coming up with three – Tharon Tholvitz, Charnie Coulter and Richard Rinkle. All of them had died of old age. _It_ was on the chopping block too, and so was _The Green Mile._ This wasn't a prison. I crossed off _The Shawshank Redemption_ too for a similar reason.

I heard a few footsteps from behind me and wondered if Madam Pince was back. But no, it was not Madam Pince. It was Alfie, which was pretty damn hypocritical of him considering he had scolded me for going out again. He came at me before I could react, I went for my wand but couldn't get the spell off in time before I was disarmed, and I was quickly shut out. I noticed that he wasn't using magic, but then that wasn't anything new. He landed a blow to my stomach, and I dodged his second, scrambling for my wand. I grabbed it and cast a simple disarming spell at him, but it didn't do much good so I decided to continue running, pushing over books behind me to slow him down. Pince could clean this up in the morning, I figured. The Wizarding World didn't have security cameras and they wouldn't expect a student to go to the library on the first night.

"Alfie, stop it!" I tried to get him to back down, but to no avail. Eventually I reached the library door, pushed it close and ran down the corridor once more. A few turns later, and down a couple of flights of stairs, I ran into Renée, who was walking around a corner. We both collided, and she recoiled instantly – I noticed that her hands were gloved when she touched me, and that she went out of her way to avoid contacting my skin.

"Sorry," I apologised, offering her a hand to get back to her feet but she refused, climbing up on her own. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I had to go to the library to check up something, and I got attacked by Alfie," I said.

"Impossible," said Renée. "Alfie was in the common room waiting for you the whole time. How did he know where you were?"

"I don't know, he was just there," I said, with a shrug. "Could he have snuck out after you left?"

"It's possible, if there are some shortcuts I don't know about," she said. "I guess we'll see if he's still waiting for you when we get back. You can ask him. Fair warning, he's going to up his game this year. You better watch your back and sleep with one eye open."

Our rooms were protected against intruders unless we wanted to let people into them, so I was safe as long as I got to my room. So, I treaded cautiously to the common room, eventually procuring Renée's talents as someone who could get around places without people noticing her to sneak into the common room and report back. I waited for a few minutes before she returned, and she told me what I wanted to hear, "It's empty. I guess he must still be on his way back. I'd get up to your room fast."

"I'll see you in the morning, I guess," I said, and then added, "So are we good? I'd like to still talk to you."

"I'd like that too," she said with a smile. "Anyway, I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning."

"You too," I said, waving goodbye as we went our separate ways.

 _1971._

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat shouted as it left the head of James Potter. He immediately raced down to join his friend Sirius Black, who had just shocked the world by being a first Black not to be sorted into Slytherin.

"I am so getting a howler for this," Sirius said to James.

"A howler if you're lucky," James said. "You're probably going to be banished from the family."

"That would be the best thing that could possibly happen," he said. More people were sorted following them. James noticed that the boy called Snape looked dejected not to be in the same house as Lily Evans, but he made his way over to the Slytherin table without much of a complaint. Headmaster Dumbledore announced his presence in a calm fashion and the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, as well as the new Arithmancy teacher – Hank Mallory - before settling them in with some food to eat.

"Hey," James said, about halfway through eating, much to the disgust of Lily Evans, "Want to go exploring after? I bet we can find a secret passageway on our first day."

"I bet we can find one in our first hour," said Sirius, and turned to the blonde-haired boy next to him, who was silent, and hadn't spoken at all. James had felt guilty for not remembering his name, but was relieved when Sirius said it. "Remus, right? Want to come with us?"

"Are you sure?" he asked. "We shouldn't be exploring on our first night when we don't know the way to the common room."

"We can figure that out later," said Sirius with a sigh.

"Besides, I know where it is," James said. "It's behind the portrait of the fat lady. My Dad told me exactly where to go."

"What if you weren't sorted into Gryffindor?" said Remus.

"I'm a Potter," said James. "It's in my blood."

"Going by that, I should be sitting over there," said Sirius. "The Hat's unpredictable like that. I wouldn't count on every Potter being a Gryffindor. Who knows, maybe the next one might be in Slytherin."

James laughed at that, mockingly. "That's a good joke, Sirius. Really good."

They finished up their meal, and James dragged Sirius and Remus with him. It took them half an hour to find their first secret passageway on the second floor, but once they got in, the passageway split in two, and both James and Sirius found themselves separated on the other side from Remus. "Oh no," Sirius said. "That's not good. Hey, Remus, you there mate?"

 **III.**

Remus Lupin knew he shouldn't have let himself be talked into exploring with James and Sirius, but his mother was always telling him to make friends. He awkwardly made his way away from where they were after James told him to try and find a way around, but one of the corridors collapsed and he found himself in a strange, unfamiliar room. Realising this must be the way out, he crawled forward, finding his bare hands smash against broken glass.

He looked up, clutching his hands, to find himself face-to-face with a cage. A cage stood there, capable of holding even someone who looked to be Hagrid's size. It had recently been constructed, many of the components were new. What was it there for?

He advanced towards the cage, and glanced inside. There was a body-bag there, human sized. The size of a young human child. Had there been anyone at Hogwarts who wasn't present when McGonagall had read out the list of names of the people due to be sorted? No.

 _No._

So, whoever the bodybag belonged to, Remus knew that somehow it must have been smuggled into Hogwarts, maybe using the secret passage. He didn't know how to use magic – hell, his lessons hadn't even begun yet, but he had his wand at the ready just in case, and at the very least, it made him feel better knowing he had something to protect him.

A few muffled screams could be heard from inside the bodybag, and to Lupin's horror, he realised that there was somebody alive in there. The bag came off, and he saw the face of a black-haired girl, who gave a terrified look back at him and proceeded to scream off the top of her head as though he was the one that had kidnapped her. "Easy, easy," he said. "My name's Remus, what's yours?"

"Scarlett," she said.

"Scarlett," said Remus, as confidently as he could. "Good to meet you, Scarlett. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to help."

"Do you know how to get me out of this cage? I was kidnapped, someone smuggled me here. I didn't see where I was going. One minute I was with my parents… the next… where am? Why are you holding a wooden stick?"

"It's my wand," said Remus, looking down at him.

"Your wand?" Scarlett said, startled, "So does that make you a wizard?"

There was a sound from upstairs before Remus could answer, and Scarlett looked worried. "I'll go and check it out," he said. "I'll be right back with some help. Don't worry."

He climbed up the stairs, still perturbed by the encounter. The sound was probably coming from James or Sirius, they would have found their way around the passageway by now. He made his way up, glancing down from his high perch to the girl below, as he lifted the wood over him, tapping into the strength that came with his curse. It wasn't anything special, but it was just enough to make him appear stronger than he was. He lifted it over and the girl had to cover her face from the light, but lost his grip in the process and fell down.

An outstretched hand prevented him from falling to what would have certainly been a few broken bones, if not his death – and he eagerly took it. The man lifted him up, and Remus noticed the greying of his hair and recognised him, relieved that it was someone he knew. "Professor Mallory! There's a girl down there – she's trapped!"

Hank Mallory put Lupin down on the ground, taking his wand from him. "You shouldn't be down here at this time of day, Mr. Lupin. Who knows what you might find."

"But, Professor, I didn't mean anything by it, I'm being genuine when I say that there's actually a _girl_ down there. She needs rescuing."

"Oh," said the Professor. "My boy. You were doing so well up to that point."

"What do you mean, Professor?" Remus said, realising that he'd just given him his wand, and felt incredibly alone.

"She doesn't need rescuing. She's exactly where she needs to be. And I hope you understand, this is nothing personal. I just can't have my plans ruined on the opening night. After all, Aamon is, and all that."

Remus screamed as he tried to fight off the Professor, but he was much too strong for that. And then the inevitable happened, Hank Mallory was able to go for his wand, which he held in the direction of the Werewolf. " _Obliviate!"_

 **To Be Continued….**

I'm pretty sure everyone worked out that Renée was not her real name, so rather than prolong the inevitable, I thought it would be a good idea to reveal – sort of – who she was, as well as revealing that Mallory took her – Scarlett – before he met The Man in Black. It's important to remember that his family is a big believer in the cult of Aamon, which is its own, original thing created for the story.

Rest assured, I do have a plan for the ending of Robin and Scarlett's story. I know what King stories I'm going to adapt and which ones I'm not. I also know how _Twin Peaks_ factors all into all of this, so those scratching your head at its inclusion, whilst you may not be immediately satisfied, will get your answers.


	24. Where's the Revolution?

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twenty-Four: Where's the Revolution?**

 **I.**

Harry Potter was in _Slytherin._ How could this have happened? The thought was still very much on my mind as I caught my first glimpse of The Boy Who Lived in the corridor, walking with Daphne Greengrass towards a lesson the following morning. Whispers from students followed him "Is that the Boy Who Lived?" was joined by "I thought he'd be taller," and "Who's that with him?" "Daphne Greengrass."

It was an interesting first day, that was certain. Greengrass gave a nod in my direction when I walked past, and I responded in kind. "Who's that?" Harry asked.

"A friend of my sister's," I overheard her say sternly, as though she were talking to a younger brother who bored her. "Don't ask, and don't speak to Hufflepuffs in public."

"But…"

"It's how it's always been," she said. "If you want to survive in Slytherin, you follow the rules."

"It's weird, right?" Bobby was back. "Harry Potter in Slytherin. I was sure he was going to be in Gryffindor. What happened?"

We prevented Ron Weasley from getting there first, was what happened. Elijah followed in line not long after that. "I've started working on pamphlets. Handouts, I mean."

"For what?"

"The revolution," he said, producing one and handing it to me. It was written in bold - _Where's the Revolution_? At the top of the page and an image that resembled the World War 2 patriotic propaganda posters of wizard looking directly at the audience. "We're going to change this whole thing."

"Good luck with that," said Bobby. "I've been getting nothing but evil glares since I woke up this morning. I don't think they can handle a Gryffindor talking to a Hufflepuff, let alone a Revolution."

"Well all revolutions have to start from somewhere, right?" said Elijah. "Come on. It'll be fun."

"Since when were you a big believer in fun? Mr. I've got to read all the course books on the train ride there," I said. "Besides, me and Bob talked about this. It wouldn't work."

"Well you have something different that you don't have this time," said Elijah.

"What's that?"

"Me," he said, with a grin, leaning back. "The cavalry has arrived, boys."

 **II.**

The First Football Tryouts of the season for Hufflepuff came around remarkably quickly. I figured I'd try my luck at getting on the Hufflepuff team, which turned out to be a big mistake. Alfie and his group were waiting for me, and Renée was watching on by the sidelines. "Hey," Alfie said, in my direction. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

I instantly knew my mistake in even turning up at all and decided to make a tactical retreat before things could get worse. Alfie hurled a spell in my direction just to make sure that I stayed away before being restrained by his house-mates, and it wasn't long before I found myself heading gloomily back to the castle. I had become the founder of Hogwarts Football Club, and I wasn't able to play a game at all. My thoughts drew to despair as I made my way back through the castle, eventually coming across a Gryffindor who was standing there, and I recognised him instantly as Oliver Wood, the Quidditch captain from the books. "Mornin, kid. Sorry about that. Kids can be cruel."

"Tell me about it," I said.

"I was doing some reading up on the rules that were laid down at the formation of the Football League," said Wood, "And I couldn't help but notice that there were no regulations about teams being limited to specific houses, unlike Quidditch. Which got me thinking, we've all seen you play, and I've had a couple of students vouch for you – I know you might not be the most popular student around right now-"

"That's an understatement."

"-But Gryffindor would like to extend you an invite to the football trials," Wood said. "Heaven knows, we need a striker. And I heard that was the position you play in."

"I thought Quidditch was your thing? Why bother with Football?"

"Because," Wood said, "As much as it pains me to admit it we don't stand a chance this year against Slytherin. Especially as I've heard rumours about how talented Harry Potter is that Snape's thinking of fudging the rules so he can play in the First Team straight away."

"I thought Snape hated him."

"Where did you get that from? He's practically Snape's favourite student ever since he got sorted into Slytherin. Practically gives him points just for breathing. If I didn't know better, it's to spite his Dad," said Wood. "That man can hold a grudge. But it's not my place to say anything further on the matter. The point is, our football team is probably our best shot at winning any trophies this year. And I know because of House loyalty you might not want to get involved, but…"

"Won't any Gryffindors be annoyed that I'm taking their place?"

"You'd still have to go through the trials first," Wood said. "But I have faith that you should be able to make it through with flying colours. Plus, from my experience it doesn't matter what house you're from as long as you play good, stylish football. And that's what we plan to do. Not the cluttered, ugly football that Snyder's got Hufflepuff playing like."

"You've seen them play already?"

"Yeah. First training session was on Monday," he said. "One of our scouts said that they were going in hard on players, their own players. We don't want to play like that. It's not the Gryffindor way."

"I didn't think it would have been the Hufflepuff way either," I said. "Sounds more like Slytherin tactics."

"Well someone's got to be the Slytherin when it's the one competition that Slytherin refuse to compete in," said Wood. "So, I've got to dash. Lessons and all that. But would it be something you're interested in? Our trials are tomorrow at 12."

"Sure," I said. "Why not? What's the worst that could happen?"

 **III.**

Elijah was well aware that his reputation in Hogwarts wasn't ideal. After all, how could it be? His parents had made it known that if he were spotted outside of the library for more than an hour at a time, there would be consequences. Which is why he revelled in every moment that he had outside of the library, relishing in the companionship of his friends. He got to know Brianna, Bobby and Robin well as the days passed, their outsider status bringing them together under one banner.

But one particular evening, Elijah found himself walking down a corridor in the dead of night, attaching a poster to a suit of armour that didn't move. _Where's the Revolution_? It asked, like all of them. He turned away, and began to head back to his classroom when he heard a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like his mothers. "Elijah! What are you doing in this hallway without a book? You should be studying! In the library, NOW!"

He turned around to find the source of the voice, wondering how it was possible. Could his mother have sent him a Howler, and an over-eager Owl had delivered it before breakfast tomorrow morning? No. His mother would have wanted him to be humiliated in the most public way possible. Failure at a public level was deemed as the best motivation for success. But it was more than just a Howler. His mother was standing there, real and in the flesh as human as can be. "I am so very disappointed in you, Elijah," the woman said. "You do know the consequences of what happens to those who do not study? Do you want to end up like Uncle Albert? Alone and afraid, in Azkaban?"

Uncle Albert was the black sheep of the family, the bogeyman, brought up at night to scare children into submission. Nobody talked about him for a good reason. Elijah began to run, picking up pace as he did so. He turned a corner yet his mother was there, having somehow beaten him to the end. She was everywhere, he supposed. He had to backtrack, turning around, doing a complete U-Turn.

He sprinted until he reached a spiral staircase, and then climbed down it. Eventually, he could hear people in the distance, and ran towards them, not even caring. They could have been He Who Must Not Be Named for all he cared, he just wanted _out._ The feeling that he had stuck with him for the rest of the day, a growing sense of unease. It reminded him of a Dementor – if a Dementor's powers were increased by about tenfold, and boasted the same shape-shifting powers of a Boggart. He'd experienced Dementors before in Azkaban when he'd gone with his father to visit Albert, just that one time – and it was an experience that had stayed with him. Somehow, despite the fact that there was only one creature, this was much worse. Such a thing shouldn't have been possible. _What was it_?

 **IV.**

All too predictably, Alfie was waiting for me at the trials when I cautiously made my way down to the pitch. He approached me directly, and asked, "What do you think you're doing here?"

"I'm here to play football," I said. "I've just become the first transferred player in the Hogwarts Football League."

"That's not in the rules…"

"Nowhere in the rules is it stated that Hogwarts students must play for their Houses. It just says teams," I said. "Team Gryffindor. Not House Gryffindor. I thought that was the whole point as to why we started it anyway, to promote inter-house relationships? You know, back when you actually cared about making friends outside your house?"

"Don't try to push me on that. You abandoned your own house, first. You abandoned me. Look. This is your last chance. Turn back now, and maybe I'll ask people to cool off what they have in mind."

"Alfie. Please. We're already up against it as it is. Half the school already hates us. What more could you do that would possibly make it _worse_?" I said, and walked off, down to the football field, where I was greeted by a Gryffindor who I recognised from last year. He was the then-fifth year, now a sixth, who had helped turn the kits that we'd worn into kits. He greeted me warmly as I arrived.

"Good to have you with us, Robin," said Mack. "Just for the heads up, I've tried to prepare the team as much as possible for your arrival but there are probably going to be some hostilities. I hope you don't mind. I saw you play last year, and I reckon there's something that we could use there. And Merlin knows we need it. Oliver told you about the mess we're in right now."

"Alright, so where do I start?" I said, glancing up at Mack.

"Well we're going to split each team into two groups," he said. "Trialists A and B. You'll go in B. And we'll work things up from there. Most of our eleven is going to remain the same from last year, but we've had a few seventh years age out. So we have a spot open for a substitute striker, a goalkeeper or a defender. First team places are extremely competitive so I'm not about to throw you into them straight away, I'm afraid. Maybe bring you on after sixty minutes in the first game, if we're playing well enough."

"That sounds fair," I said, not expecting to be a first-teamer right away. I had to earn my spot just like everyone else, even though Mack and Oliver had swayed me over to joining Gryffindor. I walked over and put on a Red Shirt.

 **V.**

Brianna Marshall was in the girl's bathroom when it happened. She'd been expecting an attack from people ever since she'd become friends with Robin, perhaps even moreso. Of course it was going to happen while she was on the toilet. She had no way of knowing who was doing the shaking of the fragile walls that surrounded her, and no way of knowing who it was until they spoke. "This is what you get, freak," said Siobhan Doherty, a Slytherin fourth year. She supposed it was her fault for being in the same compartment as Bobby the day he hit Flint. Brianna did her best to cover herself as Siobhan used her wand to lift up plenty of rubbish – where she'd got it from, Brianna didn't know, and throw it over her head, covering her with food and bits of discarded parchment. She tried to create a spell to charm them away, but the sheer surprise of the attack had caught her off guard.

And then they left. Just like that. After a few moments of silence. "We'll get you next time," Siobhan said. Had she seen somebody? Was a Professor just around the hallway, waiting to punish her? Unlikely. Brianna was never that lucky. But that didn't explain the footsteps that she heard coming for her after they left, after they went away….

The footsteps sounded familiar. Like she recognised the sounds of those thick, well-worn boots. _'No. That's not possible.'_ "Siobhan?" she called out. "This isn't funny!"

There was no answer. Brianna dared to gaze under the door. But before she could climb back to her feet after seeing that the person outside had moved to a halt, she felt something else drop on her, something horrifying. She screamed once she saw what it was, not caring who heard her.

It was teeth. Human teeth, ripped from the mouth of someone who she didn't recognise. After all, how could you recognise someone from just their teeth alone? It was impossible, surely. Was it Siobhan's? She hoped not. Sure, she hated Siobhan, but she had never wished for her to die.

She decided that she was going to have to open the doors and try and get around the attacker. There was no other way out, and if she had the element of surprise, she could jump him. It was a fool's hope, but she couldn't bear the thought of waiting in the toilet to die. No, Brianna Marshall had more dignity than that. She was a Gryffindor after all.

She kicked open the door, wand at the ready, ready to come out firing with any spell that she could. Yet the second she burst out into the bathroom, yelling an _Expelliarmus_ on the off-chance the attacker had a wand, she was surprised to see that there was nothing there at all. The boots had gone, as had the legs that belonged to it. So too, she noticed, had the teeth.

It was like there was nothing there at all.


	25. I Coulda Been A Contender

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twenty-Five: I Coulda Been a Contender**

 **I.**

Bobby Whitmore was something of a social pariah at Hogwarts, but that was nothing new. He'd been on the streets for longer than he cared to admit, a drifter from town to town. He was wearing a red bomber jumper that he'd been able to repair thanks to magic, initially a worn down and discarded item that had been two sizes too big for him. But with the help of his Head of House, Professor McGonagall, he now had two copies. But he preferred this one, it reminded him of _Rebel Without a Cause,_ his favourite movie.

He made his way up to Gryffindor tower hoping to find his brother Georgie. They had precious little time together to spend in the same place without others despite essentially being in the same year, and his status as a latecomer made it socially awkward to make friends. Not in the least because of his status as someone who was a permanent enemy of Marcus Flint. Speaking of Marcus Flint….

"Well if it ain't the mudblood," said Flint. "You know, you were lucky that day. You landed one punch on me. Ain't gonna happen again. Come on. I'll give you a free shot. What's the matter, mudblood? Ain't gonna hit me? I'm right here. Hit me."

Bobby lashed out. He had a short fuse, what else was he going to do? Flint dodged easily and shoved him to the floor like he was nothing. But Bobby wasn't going to quit that easily. He went for his wand, but before he could, one of Flint's sidekicks disarmed him, and the wand flailed away. So his next plan was to climb to his feet, but a vicious uppercut punch prevented him from fully standing upright.

"Not so confident now, are we?" Flint said. "When you don't have anyone backing you up. I don't even need magic to beat you. You're worthless. Completely. Your parents would be ashamed that they've brought up such a failure."

Bobby suspected he didn't know his parents hadn't really brought him up at all. He looked around for a painting in the hope that there was one nearby, but Flint had been well-prepared. He'd chosen a spot that didn't have any within eyeshot range, aside from one which was empty. Bobby tried to hold his own, but Flint had age, strength, height and numbers on his side. Every time he got close he felt as though something was holding him back, and he wondered if Flint's allies were preventing Bobby from performing with his full strength.

They probably were. He wasn't experienced enough with magic yet but he felt like a spell was very much holding him back. In the end it probably didn't matter, as eventually, tired of their fun, Flint left Bobby suspended in the air and unable to fall to the floor, before leaving. "That'll be a reminder to you," said Flint. "Don't come near me again. Don't even look at me again. And in case you forget, I'm going to be back to see you tomorrow."

Bobby was pretty sure he wasn't going to forget this night in a while, no matter how much he wanted to. He stayed up there for what felt like _hours,_ waiting for someone to come and pass him by, and then eventually, someone did.

It was Georgie. "Hey, brother," he said, glancing up at Bobby. "Long time no see. How's it up there?"

"Pretty good actually," Bobby said, glancing down at Bobby, thankful that Flint had left him with the ability to speak. "The view's nice. I'd say it's better than the last three places we stayed at. I don't suppose you know a spell that would get me down from here?"

"No, but the common room's just around the corner," said Georgie. "I'm going to go and get help if you need it. But you seem to be perfectly fine suspended in the air."

"Oh don't worry," Bobby said. "I'm hurting, Georgie. Real bad. Probably a broken nose."

"Yeah, it does look a bit out of shape. What happened to you?"

"I coulda been a contender," Bobby said, putting on a gritty American accent, and then, "You should see the other guy."

"The other guy being Flint."

"Yeah."

"Somehow I don't feel like he came out the worse for wear on this one."

"Just shut up and get me help."

"Okay," Georgie said. "But you're gonna have to play paper boats with me next time it rains."

"Georgie," Bobby said. "Only kids do that anymore. You've grown out of that. Besides, where are there even streams in Hogwarts anymore?"

"There's the sewers," said Georgie. "Me and Mal found an access point that we tested already, it goes right down from the eighth floor to the fourth. If we run we can beat it there. Stevie was gonna come too, but he says he's in Slytherin now so he can't hang out with me no more. But he hangs out with Mal, and Mal gets across what I want to tell him to Stevie alright. See. It ain't that hard to be friends with people outside your house."

"Fine," Bobby said, grumbling. "Go and get help and then I'll play paper boats with you."

Georgie cheered, and ran off, leaving Bobby to wait.

It wasn't long before he heard something coming towards him in the corridor, something that sounded like water. And lots of it. He tried to arch his neck to see around the nearby corner but to no avail, but as it turned out, he didn't have to wait long to see what it was. One of the pipes in the Hogwarts corridor must have flooded, as to his horror, the entire hallway was submerged in water, rapidly cascading down towards him. Immediately alarmed, he tried to move, but Flint's spell held him in place. He prepared to take a deep breath, before he was instantly submerged, soaking him in the water.

He desperately tried to fight for air, but to no avail, holding his breath as long as he could, wondering where the hell the water had come from. There wasn't this much water stored in the pipes at Hogwarts, surely? He felt an urge to breathe rising and rising, and then, shocking him into opening his mouth, he saw something in the water. A body, a floating body. Unrecognisable at first, but it was pretty clear that it was a corpse. Bobby had seen people die before, with the amount of times spent on the streets this was unavoidable, but he'd never seen anybody _drown_ before. He was experiencing what it felt like. The helplessness was the worst feeling of all, being unable to do anything as the current seemed to only be getting worse. He couldn't even attempt to fight it, Flint's spell was powerful _,_ and there was no escaping it.

The corpse spun around in the current and Bobby screamed, or did the best he could to scream given the fact he was underwater. It was his brother, Georgie, clutching a drenched paper boat that was torn. Georgie hadn't been carrying it before – had he been storing it in his pocket? No. It was a vision.

It was a nightmare. That was it, Bobby told himself. That was all. A very real _nightmare._ He was proven right moments later when the water suddenly disappeared, and he found himself being elevated back to Earth by Oliver Wood, the Quidditch Captain of all people. The second he was down on the floor, Bobby ran towards Georgie and hugged him.

"Urgh, get off me, you're soaked," Georgie said, and Bobby realised that too. He looked down at himself in horror, and it was true, he was shivering, and he was wet.

"That must have been one nasty spell Flint hit you with," Olivier said. "I saw you choking on something. You should probably go to the Hospital Wing just in case there are any after effects."

"That's probably a good idea," said Bobby, and said to Georgie, "Thanks, Georgie. I owe you one."

One thing was certain, Bobby concluded as he walked away from Oliver Wood, taking his brother with him. He would be owing Georgie by _not_ playing paper boats with him ever again.

 **II.**

Halloween was fast approaching and I wondered what would happen now that Harry Potter was in Slytherin. Already knock-on effects had been falling into place and I wondered if this was a consequence of the presence of the Stephen King universe or not. Was Harry even Harry? Or was he say, something from the Kingverse? How would something like _Christine_ work in the wizarding world, or _Cujo_? The luxury of a private room to myself afforded me to create an evidence wall behind my wardrobe, carefully designed. The Room of Requirement gave me access to some of the books but not all of them, and only fragments of ones that I remembered, so I realised that it must be down to memory more than anything – after all, how is the Room supposed to replicate books that don't exist in this world? I was surprised it was able to replicate a copy of a PS4 console and some games, which wouldn't exist for a few years yet, even if it wasn't able to run them. There were several pages missing of _11.22.63_ for example, a good chunk of the book. The book that I remembered the most was understandably, now that whatever barrier had been lifted from me was removed, _The Shining,_ which was a fat help given that I had already lived through that one and wasn't going to get a sequel.

There was a knock on my door, and I quickly moved to cover up what became my evidence wall, with crudely drawn pictures of King covers on top of it grouped into various checkmarks and underneath various possibilities that I'd crossed off. I quickly put on a jumper over the shirt that I was wearing and went out of the door to find out who it was, half expecting Alfie to come at me with a suckerpunch, which seemed to be the tailored move for bullies at Hogwarts (evidently, Alfie was more of a hands-on person rather than a magic-using one). I was expecting him or Flint to show up around every corner now, paranoia was starting to settle in. There were few people who I trusted at this point.

"Morning, Robin," it was Elijah, who was thankfully, one of those few. "Um, Mack's waiting for you outside. He's got some news that I thought you might want to hear in person."

"Can it wait? I've got a class to get to, and I've already missed breakfast."

"So have I," said Elijah. "But trust me, you're going to want to hear this."

Elijah wasn't exactly subtle about what he was implying, and my mood swung instantly for the better. I followed him out of the door where surprise, surprise, half of the Gryffindor Football team was waiting for me with Professor McGonagall. I looked at Elijah. "I thought you said it was just Mack…"

"Well I may have overexaggerated."

"Professor," I said. "What brings you here?"

"I am here to meet the first person to have transferred from one house to another. Tell me. Do you have any conflict of interest that would prevent you from playing your utmost for Gryffindor?"

"No," I said. "I did kind of want to be in Gryffindor before I ended up in Hufflepuff, Professor."

"That's a bold thing to say right in front of the Hufflepuff Common Room," Mack pointed out. "Lucky for you the door's closed and the portrait's not at home. We needed Professor McGonagall present to sign off the transfer. Plus, something from Hufflepuff to complete the union."

"That's how it starts, right?" I asked. "Won't be long before you get to a million galleons for players."

"Hah," Mack said. "This ain't muggle football, kid. Never gonna happen here. We don't pay our players. They do it for the love of the game."

"Then I'm creating a worker's union," I said, earning laughter from Mack and some of the Gryffindor footballers. "So, where do I sign? And what do I give from Hufflepuff?"

"Oh, only your soul," said Mack, sounding dead serious before a second before eventually giggling. "Nah, just like a crumpled-up parchment will do. Or a Galleon, if you've got one spare."

"Sorry, poor orphan here, I need every coin I can get," I said, reaching into my bag and withdrawing a piece of parchment. I scribbled down my signature on it and handed it to Mack, who took it eagerly. "There you go. I'm in."

"For better or for worse?"

"For better or for worse," I said.

 **III.**

Brianna Marshall cautiously made her way to her lesson the following day after the incident, which she had come to know it as. She shared a class with the Slytherins and it was of course, Defence Against the Dark Arts, so she was under the tutelage of Professor Quirrell. There was something odd against him, she felt, although she couldn't quite place it. What was off about Professor Quirrell? He certainly seemed to be a different person from what the Hogwarts rumour mill spread about his last stay in the school. Less confident, as though his years had caught up to him.

She couldn't help but overhear one of her year mates, who she assumed must have been the older brother of Georgie's friend, Mal. His hairstyle was familiar and she vaguely recalled his name to be something like, Alex. As Quirrell droned on, Alex was saying, "Yeah, Mal was telling me. You know Bobby Whitmore? The mudblood who landed a blow on Flint?"

"Yeah. But we're not supposed to talk 'bout it. Flint could get real mad."

"Hey, it's me, what's the worst that could happen?" Alex said. It seemed that his status as a muggleborn or maybe even a half-blood didn't matter too much to his peers, which was odd. Maybe they just didn't know about his background, which seemed odd considering his younger brother was so openly flaunting his knowledge of football teams in their brief conversation that they'd had on the train. A tell-tale sign of a muggleborn background. "Well, Mal told me that his classmate Georgie, the mudlood's brother, said that he had a vision or something. Something crazy."

"Hey, we know the kid's a feral. This only confirms it, right?" Alex's friend, whose name Brianna didn't catch, was saying.

"But hold up," Alex said. "I'm just saying, the same thing happened to Siobhan last night. I heard her talking about it in the common room."

"Eavesdropping on Doherty _and_ badmouthing Flint? Alex, you got to be careful mate. You never know who's listening," said his friend, but after a few moments, added anyway, "What'd she say? She get the vision too?"

"No. But she saw something creepy in the corridors. You know she's always been afraid of clowns, right? Like _deathly afraid_ of them," said Alex. "Remember that story that came out about her third year when they put her in front of the Boggart?"

"They do that in third year? I can't wait to find out what my worst fear is."

"Careful. That's Gryffindor talk, that is," Alex said. "But she came face to face with a Clown again last night, and she ran and spoke to Professor Snape about it to find out if there were any Boggarts that were unaccounted for in the area to their knowledge. And Snape did a sweep of the whole floor this morning, checked Dumbledore's records too. The ones he keeps of every known magical creature in the castle."

"And?" Alex's friend was hooked on every word.

"There were no Boggarts present on Hogwarts grounds at all," said Alex. "So, either Siobhan's crazy… or there's something else out there dressing up as a clown and frightening the students."

"But why a clown?" Alex said.

"And isn't that the question of the hour," said Alex. "Everyone knows what a Werewolf's gonna do to you. Everyone knows what a Vampire's gonna do to you. But a Clown that doesn't make you laugh? Just think about it for a second. A Clown going against the very _purpose_ of its creation? The mere thought of that should terrify you. And you know what makes things worse?"

"What?"

"It's Halloween next week," Alex said, delivering it as a punchline. As though Halloween was some big thing in the wizarding world, where the voids between the spirits and reality were actually at its thinnest, and this fantasy Clown that Siobhan had apparently saw, would come out of the shadows for the first time properly then.


	26. The Beautiful Game

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twenty-Six: The Beautiful Game**

 **I.**

Brianna found me by the Kitchens and I could tell that she was looking for answers. What those answers were I did not know, and expected that she probably knew that. "Hey. Have you been getting any visions lately?"

As ever, she cut straight to the point. "Visons of what? You're going to be a little more specific."

"Visions of, I don't know, a Clown."

"A Clown? That's a new one," I said, my alarm bells ringing but instantly dismissing _THE CLOWN_. It hadn't been 27 years yet since the last sightings of IT. We were safe for a good few years yet at least. "You have?"

"No, but Doherty has. And as much as Doherty is a twat, she's an honest twat," said Brianna. "She wouldn't lie about something like that, that's likely to damage her reputation. And apparently, Bobby's been getting visions too."

"You're right. Except they're not like visions, they're more like hauntings," said Bobby. He had shown up from behind Brianna out of nowhere. "Hey. Sorry guys, I followed you here from the Common Room Brianna. Figured you were headed in this direction to say hi to Robin or to get some food, so I thought I'd swing by and do both."

"Hauntings like what? You do know that seeing ghosts isn't exactly a rare occurrence here."

"Hauntings more of the scary side, though. Ghosts aren't scary. Like, I promised Georgie I'd play Paper Boats with him after he found me being suspended in the air by Flint, and then he went away to get help. Two minutes later, he came back… only he was dead, floating in water. It submerged the entire corridor and I was worried that I was going to get drowned as well."

"You sure that wasn't a prank by Flint?"

"No. No Hogwarts student could have done that. It felt scary, as well. Like fear."

"Like the combination of a Dementor and a Boggart," Elijah said, coming out of the Kitchens, having heard us from the other side. He was sipping a warm coffee in his hands, and handed one over to Bobby, who took it eagerly. "All black, right?"

"Blacker than black," Bobby said. "My man. How'd you know we were here?"

"Oh, someone's going to be real disappointed about the fact that I didn't get them a coffee," said Elijah, and Bobby laughed, even though he probably knew Elijah was joking. He probably heard us from the interior of the Kitchens as we were standing close enough. "Anyway. The Haunting. My haunting. It was of my mother."

"Your mother?" Brianna said.

"Yeah. Why aren't you in the library, Elijah? Honestly, it was terrifying," Elijah said, opting for a shrieky voice that took us by alarm for the first part of his sentence. "I ran down the hallway and int Snyder. Had to hop back to the common room but it was worth it. I felt like I would rather take on You-Know-Who himself before going back in that corridor with that thing. Whatever it is. I know it's not my mother. But goddamn. It felt like she was the scariest thing in the world."

Elijah let his statement hang in the air for a few seconds. "I might have experienced something," I said. "I was attacked by Alfie in the library, but according to Renée, he was nowhere near the library at the time. And I got the same feeling. What about you, Brianna?"

"Nothing yet," she said. "Can't say I have experienced anything otherworldly at least, not myself."

"Well the sooner you do, let us know," I said. "I don't want to let this thing actually get the ump on us."

"We don't know if it's the same thing," pointed out Bobby. "Could all be different. We were all attacked on different days, right?"

"In that case, what's worse?" I asked. "A bunch of shapeshifting boggart/dementor hybrids running around Hogwarts, or just one, that's able to do everything that the multiple shapeshifters could do at once?"

We pondered on that topic as we went to the great hall to get our timetables for the week, as they had just been changed, and the nagging feeling never left my mind as we did so. _Was this IT?_ Out of all of the things we were going to end up against. It had to be one of the scariest horror monsters of all time.

 **II.**

News came in thick and fast of the fact that I was transferring to Gryffindor so the Hufflepuffs glared at me with daggers that represented a betrayal. The Gryffindors were gossiping about me, wondering if life in Hufflepuff wasn't all what it was cracked up to be, at least from a Hufflepuff perspective. The House Image that they had presented to the school as being the House that accepted anyone regardless of where they were from had been shattered almost overnight, and I felt guilty knowing that I was the primary cause for this, especially as the cause of this trouble was entirely down to me for shutting myself off from the likes of Cho, Renée, Alfie and Katie that led me to seek solace with another football team due to Alfie's actions. They were getting on and minding their own business themselves, with Cho talking to Ravenclaws. I noticed that Renée was nowhere near Alfie at the table – was this a new thing or had their division been split apart only recently? People tended to sit at the table in friend groups, so to see them apart was a real surprise. Alfie was talking to Justin Finch-Fletchley and his friend, someone called Lorna Richardson. A quick glance at the Slytherin table more out of curiosity than anything informed me that Harry Potter was there – something that seemed so surreal even in itself, talking to Daphne Greengrass and Draco Malfoy. Curiously, Malfoy wasn't with Crabbe and Goyle in this timeline, and I wondered what had changed between them too, frustrated at the lack of being all-knowing and omnipresent. A new trio was forming of its own accord in the Slytherin corner, and anything that brought both a Malfoy and a Potter together, coupled with a Greengrass in tow, was worth paying attention to.

Hermione Granger meanwhile was alone at the Gryffindor table and sadly, predictably friendless. I made a mental note to encourage Elijah to befriend her. I had no idea what lay in store for Harry now, would Dumbledore treat him as another Tom Riddle since he was sorted? Would he even give him the Invisibility Cloak? Would Harry even go looking for the Third-Floor corridor? There were so many dominos yet to fall that I was always on edge. I hoped I wouldn't have to go and try to stop Voldemort myself. If it would come to that, I was going to have to put my affairs in order first. Voldemort and Pennywise – if it even were Pennywise, would not be something I would be able to handle at once. As mentioned before, I couldn't even handle Alfie Snyder. God help me if Pennywise was actually here.

It was official. I had the worst luck, ever.

 **II.**

The first football game of the season came around quicker than I imagined, and of course, to set the stakes high from the get-go, it was Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff. The Ravenclaws would sit out this one, although rumours were building about Slytherin entering a team. After all, they had won every competition for a good few years now and for Slytherin to lose something, even a muggle sport? It was a scandal in its own right.

The crowd was surprisingly huge, bigger than last season. I sat in the changing rooms with Mack. Rather than use the Quidditch Stadium they'd taken the Wembley Stadium (the old one, before it was knocked down), as a source of inspiration to essentially construct a miniature, more-magically inclined version of that nearby the Quidditch Stadium. Naturally to remind muggles of their natural place, the Quidditch Stadium was at the top of the hill whilst the football stadium was at the bottom. I was introduced to the starting eleven through the training matches, so I already knew Ray, Tom, Carrie, Joanna, Ewan, Thierry, Olivier, Tony, Kim, Leah and Mack. There were five substitutes and I was one of them. It was a mix of ages and gender that you wouldn't get in a muggle school, but I had to remember that wizarding culture was entirely different. To them, mixed gender sports was normal. "Alright, it's Hufflepuff. I want you to set aside any prior notions of them being a walk in the park. They're a good team," Mack was saying. "Especially you want to watch out for Alfie Snyder. He's lethal. And they're training them to play ugly, so watch out for dirty tackles. I know we got absolutely slaughtered last season, but given the extra training we've put in, I've got faith that we can come back and win."

"Against Hufflepuff? They slaughtered us last season," Olivier pointed out. "Six one, and Thierry was lucky that we got that penalty. He dived."

"I did not," protested Thierry, earning laughter from around the room.

"Alright," Mack said again. "Enough of that. We got the goal. Today we're going to do better. I've had a look at what Hufflepuff are going for and I think I'm going to change. We've been playing too conventional. Four Four Two is an outdated formation in the muggle world, yet all the teams use it here. We're going to go for a Three Five Two, like we talked about in training. We've got pace on the wings in Kim and Leah, so we'll use that. Those two will bomb forward and cross it in here, where we'll get Thierry on the header. Tony, Carrie and Ewan are going to be up against it with two strikers, but I'll be tracking back to help you guys out from defensive midfield."

"Sounds risky," said Ewan. "It's very attacking. What if Snyder goes in hard against one of our wing-backs?"

"We can jump any attack he throws at us," said Leah. "He's clumsy."

"And remember, play with style. Substitutes are going to depend massively on the gameplan, but I'll probably look to bring on Robin around the seventy-fifth minute mark. Give us some extra pace. I'm not expecting much from any of you, I know it's going to be tough, but just don't embarrass yourselves. If we can get a draw, I'd be over the moon."

I wasn't expecting to be put straight into the first team straight away. "Fortune favours the brave," said Tony, and there were murmurs of approval at this. And that was all that he said as we left the room.

 **III.**

The game kicked off under commentary from Lee Jordan, who was giving a running take on the match and comparing everything to Quidditch, like I imagined many of the pureblood First Years were. As anyone could have predicted, Hufflepuff were dominating us from the get go, and within five minutes they'd put one past a hapless Tom in goal, and within twenty they'd scored again. With five minutes to go until half-time there were already a few Gryffindors in the crowd packing up and heading home with the score at four-nil, when Kim bombed down the wing as instructed, crossed it into the box and Thierry went in hard to head the ball past the 'keeper.

We'd scored. I jumped up in celebration with the substitutes, but that celebration was quickly replaced by worry. Both Alfie and Thierry had collided and gone down, with Thierry looking considerably the worse for wear. Stretchers were brought onto the field and Thierry was carried off, whilst Alfie climbed to his feet again and acted as though nothing had happened, after making sure to check whether or not Thierry was okay.

Mack waved in my direction for the substitution to take place, and with three minutes added onto the forty-five that made up the first half, it was game time. Lee Jordan was still questioning the meaning of added time at the end of the half when I kicked off, passing the ball back and forth on the receiving end of a few boos from the Hufflepuff crowd. But I didn't care, I played against them anyway, pushing them aside in favour of my own approach.

All I managed to do was create a chance that was scuffed wide of the post before the half-time whistle blew after outpacing the last Hufflepuff defender, meaning that at the break, the score was 4-1 in favour of the Badgers. We had a mountain to climb going into the second half.

Mack called us back in at half-time, and sat as down. He looked pissed. We all did. "What did I tell you guys? Don't embarrass us. And what did you just go and do?"

There was silence that greeted Mack's comment. "Embarrass us," said Carrie. I had made a mental note to keep an eye on her just in case she somehow had a connection to _the_ Carrie, but the King connections in this world seemed to be subtler than that. Henry Torrance had been the most obvious one so far, and nobody was giving me any straightforward answers.

"I didn't hear you."

"Embarrass us," there was a louder chorus from the team, who were by this point, looking as dejected as the Gryffindor fans.

"Look, you're playing as if you want to lose," said Mack. "It's sloppy. Careless. And Thierry was injured after he scored. We've now got someone who hasn't played a game for any time in a while up front, what was I thinking? This was a terrible idea."

"It wasn't, Mack," said Tom. "You're being harsh on the kid. He only had a few minutes. Give him time."

"Time is the one thing we don't have right now. Three goals in forty-five minutes? It's impossible."

"Actually it's not," I pointed out. "Arsenal vs. Reading. Arsenal were four nil down in forty minutes. They scored a goal just before half-time to get one back, same situation as we are now. It was four-one until the sixty-fifth minute. Then Arsenal scored. Then, in the eighty-ninth, Arsenal scored again. And then, in the ninety-sixth, Arsenal score the equalizer. The game goes to extra time and Arsenal come back to win."

I failed to mention that the game didn't take place until October 2012, but who was counting? Most of these guys were either half-bloods or purebloods, so they didn't know. "What are you saying?" Mack asked, glancing at me.

"I'm saying that we can do the same," I said. "I'm not giving up just yet. Neither should you. Neither should any of you. It's decided over ninety minutes, not forty-five. We've got forty-five minutes to play the best damn football of our lives. Let's make them count."

"Amen to that," Tom said. "What do you say, boss? I'm not ready to throw in the towel just yet."

"And neither am I. Sorry about the overreaction," said Mack, noticing that time was running out before the end of the half-time break. "Alright. Alright. Alright. Let's do this. Let's do this."

 **IV.**

"And here come Gryffindor, unchanged from the first half, making their way back onto the field," declared Lee Jordan. "Although there's been this raging debate about new transfer Robin Kennedy. Are they really Gryffindor anymore if they have a Slytherin? And can we question Kennedy's desire to play well against his House? It's going to be interesting to see how the next forty-five minutes turn out for sure, and I'm still getting used to the fact that this game has a set-time limit, so remind me when we stop playing, please."

"And," Jordan continued. "Here we go. Gryffindor get the ball back underway for the second half with a mountain to climb, but they've started playing well. And that is some beautiful football by Leah Kissinger, who takes the ball under her wing and flicks it over Snyder, leaving him in the dust. Kissinger's ball finds Aaron Mackenzie's, and now Mack plays the ball long to Kennedy. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Here comes Kennedy now, weaving the ball through the defence, lining up for a shot at goal – it's blocked! What a save, Gerald Banks!"

Jordan barely had time to react to the latest chance before another one presented itself in the form of Tony, who had come up on right behind Banks to take the ball under control and slot it home. The Gryffindors went wild, with enthusiasm growing. It was now 4-2. There was still some way to go, but with confidence on our side, it was anybody's game.

A few minutes later there was another injury. This time it was Mack's turn to be involved in the tackle and a Hufflepuff to pay the price. He was catered off, creating a break in play as I glanced to the Slytherin stand – which was full by school mandate, most of the Slytherins were there reluctantly - where Harry Potter was surprisingly choking? I seemed to somehow be the only one that was noticing it, at least for a few seconds anyway, until the people next to him started to become more and more alarmed by the fact that The Boy Who Lived was apparently having a fit. I noticed that Daphne Greengrass was surprisingly absent and there was a seat empty next to Harry, but before I could turn to the teacher's viewing desk to see what Quirrell was up to, a fire had erupted near Snape. It seemed Daphne had come up with the same situation that Hermione had in canon, although surprisingly enough, Hermione wasn't present, too, which seemed odd. Maybe she'd been one of The Gryffindors that had left at half time? I didn't remember her being a big sports fan, although she had turned up to Quidditch games. There was a cry of alarm from the teachers, and eventually, the fire was put out and the play resumed with a drop-ball.

"After that debacle things are back underway," said Jordan. "And it's Hufflepuff in possession. Here they come, that's a good move by Snyder, he's clear through… it's saved! And now, there's an immediate counter-attack. Sweeping out wide here, Kissinger takes the ball down the flanks once again. Is this a new tactic Gryffindor are using? It's producing some beautiful results. But will it win them the game? They still have a mountain to climb, but here comes Kennedy. Kennedy's round one. Round two. Chance. Goal!"

I'd scored. My teammates ran over to hug me in celebration, but there wasn't much time for any congratulations. It was 4-3, and time was passing quickly. More and more times we tried to break through, but more and more times we were pushed back. By now, the Gryffindor crowd were in the mood, chanting and celebrating. Some of the chants lacked the sheer creativity of muggle football matches, but to be fair, it was only the second year of the sport being played at Hogwarts. There was a while for them to go yet. With two minutes left to go, I was fouled again by Alfie on the edge of the box, and I went down. There were a few calls for a penalty, but to no avail.

"Alright," I said, standing over the ball with Leah. She was the best at free-kicks in the team. "I've got an idea."

It was a move that I'd used on FIFA a couple of times, and figured that it was worth a try. I got Leah to stand to the next of the wall, and stood over the ball. There were a few looks of confusion from the Hufflepuffs who knew my poor free-kick taking accuracy, especially Alfie. I was soon joined by Tony. I explained what we were doing to Tony just before the referee blew the whistle, and I put my plan into action. It was a fairly simple one that didn't involve me taking a direct shot at goal – I'd have to put it past the wall of players stood in the way. Instead, my target was Tony, who quickly passed it to Leah, who _did_ have a clear shot at goal, as she'd been left unmarked by the Hufflepuffs who were too busy concentrating on the actual free-kick to notice. By the time they did, it was too late.

Leah had scored.

It was 4-4. And that was how the match would end. It was not a win, but for a struggling Gryffindor team, it was as good one. Even the non-Gryffindors applauded, or at least, the Ravenclaws, because the Slytherins left as silently as they did. I was even invited to the party that followed afterwards in the House Common Room, treated as good as an Honorary Gryffindor. Indeed, I was having so much fun that I didn't even notice it was Halloween the next day.

And neither did anyone notice The Clown, watching us from the shadows, invisible and unseen. The Clown that was about to make its move.


	27. The First Victim

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twenty-Seven: The First Victim**

 **I.**

I staggered back to my room at 1pm. The party had gone on far later than imagined, and it was as to nobody's surprise that I was incredibly tired the following morning when I staggered into class. "I don't know if it's possible," I said to Brianna when we found ourselves sharing a class with Hufflepuff in the 9am slot, "But I feel hungover and I didn't drink any alcohol."

I had been drunk before of course, back in my own timeline. It wouldn't have been an entirely new experience for me. I did get no answer from Brianna though, and there was a reason for that, she was asleep. Which was probably not a good idea given that it was Professor McGonagall's transfiguration class, and the cat animagi surprised us all by catching us unawares in the process. And in true nature to McGonagall's tenacious desire to treat all students equally, we were hit with an insane amount of work. Luckily, out of all the subjects, Transfiguration seemed to be kind of my thing, so I did the best I could. And it seemed to be just enough. Maybe part of McGonagall was in a good mood too, after Mack's scheme had just paid off.

By the time the lesson ended we were all exhausted and dreading a full day timetable. Halloween display was up in full swing in the Great Hall when we had lunch, and it wasn't until the afternoon when we found ourselves relatively near the first years, queuing for our Charms lesson just after they finished theirs. It was a Gryffindor-Slytherin Charm lesson, and it was incredibly heated by the sound of things, and I noticed that Hermione Granger came storming out of the room almost in tears. Nobody followed her, and I would have personally, but before I could, I found myself swept in the queue. As I was entering, Ron Weasley departed with Seamus Finnegan, saying, "She had it coming, it's not like she's got any friends after all."

"Mate, you said that earlier," said Seamus. "That's what she heard. Don't you think that's a bit harsh?"

"Probably," said Ron, and then shrugged. "She'll get over it."

Before I could say anything again to Ron though, we found ourselves in the classroom. Elijah had been too buried in his books as he left to notice me. But class resumed as normal, and regrettably, it wasn't until the evening when I found myself in the Great Hall when I considered the ramifications of not doing nothing. Hermione Granger was alone, crying in the bathrooms on Halloween.

And if it was Pennywise, she would be a prime target. Alone and separated from the others. I knew Hermione wasn't friends with Harry in this reality, and most likely would never be, but to take her out of the game now would be a massive blow to the Order of the Phoenix, and for wizarding society as a whole, I liked to believe that she would be a force for change in the post-Hogwarts years. I made a motion to Elijah, Bobby and Brianna and we quickly left The Great Hall. I knew we wouldn't have long before Quirrell would show up – but there was a more pressing problem in the form of a Troll. I couldn't tell them about it. I knew Hermione was going to the toilet and I could get that across without dipping into my knowledge of the books – it wouldn't take much of a leap to suggest that she would go to seek solace somewhere where nobody would go looking for her, plus, Hermione would be somewhat useful to have as a friend, too. But I wasn't expecting that. I just wanted to make sure that nobody at Hogwarts died because it was my fault. And it was my fault. If I had stopped Bobby before he'd gotten on the train – Ron wouldn't have stayed to watch and Harry would be in Gryffindor and Harry would have no trouble about going after Hermione.

Instead it was up to me. "Hermione Granger," I said one word to them. "Do you know her, Elijah?"

"Yeah. She's good at what she does," said Elijah. "She doesn't have a lot of friends, but she's the best in all our classes. I'm not even close to her and I do the same amount of studying that she does. Why?"

"Ron Weasley bullied her. I figured we'd go and say hi," I said with a shrug. "Plus, it's Halloween. Last thing we want is to leave her alone on Halloween if there is a shapeshifting clown giving people nightmares running about the place."

"How do you have any idea where she is?" Elijah. "Could be anywhere in the whole castle."

"Where do you expect a young, friendless eleven-year-old girl to go crying to alone when she has nowhere else to go?" I couldn't help but ask. "Where would you go in her situation, Brianna?"

"I had The Sickness for most of my first year so I was rarely in a position to run away on my own, but," Brianna said. "I'd go to the bathroom."

"The question is," I said. "Which bathroom?"

"The First Floor Bathroom, it's the biggest but people don't go in it often," said Brianna, automatically. "That's where I'd go if I was a First Year Gryffindor with friendship issues, which I was. Like, you can sit at the end of the stall and not run into anyone."

"Alright," said Bobby, "What are we waiting for? Come on."

"Wait," said a voice from behind Bobby and I turned around to see Renée standing there. She was wearing black gloves I noticed, which ran up her arms, covering her bare flesh, in addition to the school uniform. "You're going to look for Hermione?"

"You know her?"

"Yes," she said. "I've spent much of my time this year in the library. She's there quite often."

"Are we sure we shouldn't look there?" Bobby said.

"No," said Renée. "Madame Pince is at the Halloween feast. Which we should be at too."

"We can go and bring Hermione back before anyone notices that we're gone," I said, with a smile. "It'll be fun. Come on."

 **II.**

Professor Quirrell ran past us as we made our way up past the Dungeons. He stopped, looked at us for a second, and I realised that it was the closest that I had come to Voldemort thus so far. He'd been a distant teacher, teaching largely from the background – I wondered what would happen if I pulled off his Turban right now. Probably earn an _Avada Kedavra_ , or at the very least, an _Obliviate_. "Professor Quirrell," Bobby said. "Are you alright?"

Quirrell gave me a look when he caught me staring too long at his Turban, and I wondered if Voldemort worked out that somehow, I knew. How could he? After all, he had no way of knowing who I was. "There's a T….Troll. In the Dungeons. Why are you heading this way?"

"Hermione Granger," said Brianna. "She's alone in the girl's toilets. But did you just say a _TROLL_?"

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore, I need to warn him," Professor Quirrell said. "I advise that you go the other way. Wouldn't want any unfortunate incident to happen to you…"

"That seems like a good idea, Robin," said Brianna, as Quirrell sprinted off.

"There's something fishy about that guy," I said, looking at the back of his turban as he went, getting the feeling that the face on the other side was staring back at me, before turning to Brianna. "But yeah. You can go back if you want… But I'm going to at least try to warn Hermione."

"That's dangerous. The Troll could be anywhere," warned Elijah. "I would opt for the side of caution here. Professor Dumbledore will be along in a minute…"

"Nah," Bobby said. "We go and rescue Hermione. I don't know her at all, but she's a Hogwarts student. We should do something. Besides, we might not even run into the troll."

"And she might not even be there," Brianna said. "Come on, guys."

"What's up with you, Brianna?" I asked her. "I thought you liked adventure."

"But I'm not suicidal," said Brianna. "I never fought a troll before."

"Fine," I said. "Go back to the Great Hall. Or wait here for Professor Dumbledore. But I'm just saying, I could use all the help I could get."

Brianna paused, and then threw her hands up in the air in defeat. "If word of a Hufflepuff going where a Gryffindor dare not gets out, I'd become even more hated than I already do. But if I die, I'm going to come back and haunt you from beyond the grave."

"Nobody's dying today," I told her, reassuring myself just as much as herself. "It's a Troll. There are bigger and scarier things in the world. Remember. There's four of us. And only one of that, right guys?"

I noticed that Renée looked kind of reluctant to be here, as though she would rather be somewhere else, but didn't say anything. She had sought us out after all. "Come on," Bobby said, charging forward first. "Let's go. We can't stand around here all night." 

**III.**

We arrived on the first-floor bathrooms a few minutes later, and discovered that all-too predictably, it had become a wreck. There was screaming from the inside, and I recognised all-too instantly. It was from Hermione. The Troll was inside the Bathroom. "We need a plan," I said.

"There's no time," Bobby said, kicking the door down, advancing into the room. He hurled an _Expelliarmus_ at the Troll, but missed, and the Troll threw a Kitchen sink at him in response. I moved to quickly push him away, and hurled the same spell at it. It hit the Troll but not with enough force to knock it out of his arms.

"He's too strong," I said, noticing Hermione in the background clutching her head behind the final stall. The Troll had destroyed all the others. I moved behind one stall at the other end that had not been destroyed, where Bobby was, as the Troll debated who to go for.

"We need a new plan," Bobby said.

"Well if you'd have waited," I said.

"We need to distract it so Hermione can escape," Bobby said. The room was too narrow for her to sneak past easily. "Who's the fastest runner here?

"Either me or Renée," I said, adding, "But we need to be careful about this. We need to work out what we're going to do before we actually do it."

Before I could say anything more however, Renée didn't wait for me to elaborate, instead running into the middle of the bathroom and spreading her arms wide. She shouted, "Hey, look at me! I'm a target."

"Or we could just do it and make it up as we go along," Bobby pointed out, and gestured for Elijah and Brianna to hide so that the Troll would not notice them. They obeyed, getting into position just before it reached the entrance, following Renée's scent. Me and Bobby moved behind the stalls on the other side where the sinks were grouped around each other, and met up with Hermione, who had climbed to her feet.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Bobby Whitmore," he said. "This is Robin Kennedy. We're here to rescue you."

I noticed that Hermione had considerably bushier hair than she did in the moves, and was at the moment, a wreck. It felt weird being so close to someone who would be such an important character in the Potter books, it still felt weird every time I saw Harry Potter in the same room, but now was not the time to acknowledge the fact that I was talking to a fictional character in my world. This was after all, not my world. "Are your friends okay?" Hermione asked.

"We're about to find out," I said. "I don't suppose you know any spells that could take down a Troll?"

"We could try _Wingardium Leviosa_ ," she suggested, pronouncing it exactly like the Hermione in the movies pronounced it. "On the Troll's club, thereby knocking it out."

"Seems like a good idea," I said, not remembering who suggested it in the books or movies. Was it Hermione or Ron? I didn't think it was Harry. Either way, two of them weren't here. But what we lacked in main character power, we made up for in numbers. We sprinted outside of the room to follow the direction of the troll, and it was easy to see where the carnage had followed. I noticed that it had caught the scent of both Elijah and Brianna, who were now avoiding the swings of the club as they were determined to outpace it. When it was just below a Chandelier, Hermione aimed her wand at it with precision, cutting what was holding it in place with remarkable precision, and the Chandelier fell, doing enough to trap The Troll underneath by one of its legs. " _Wingardium Leviosa_!" she called out to Brianna and Elijah after that, who copied her handmotion respectively, working together on the same club to lift it out of the Troll's hand as it was too distracted with the Chandelier that had just fallen on its head.

It came down hard on the Troll's head, and it clattered to the floor, out cold and unconscious. "Is it dead?" asked Brianna, stepping forward to poke it.

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "Just unconscious."

"We did it," I breathed a sigh of relief.

We all lost control in our celebrations, even Hermione joined in, and we were hugging each other, still not believing that we had actually fought and defeated a Troll. I broke up from a hug with Renée, who was so covered in clothing that I made no contact with her skin whatsoever, and was about to high-five Hermione before the cavalry arrived in the form of the teachers, led by Quirrell, who looked incredibly worried.

Professor McGonagall was present. "What on Earth happened here?"

"Professor," Hermione said, stepping forward. "It was my fault. "They came looking for me. I was…"

"She was late making it down to the feast and we wanted to be sure she was fine," I said. "We only learned about the Troll when it was too late." 

"And it didn't occur for you to go and get help from a member of staff?" Professor Snape said. "There should be talks about expulsion for all of you, this very minute. The sheer audacity."

"I wouldn't be that harsh on them, Severus," Professor McGonagall said. "They did just defeat a Troll to rescue their friend. If a teacher had done that to rescue a student, they would be rewarded. Plus, there is that other matter, that seems a bit more pressing right now. That we need to address to Mr. Whitmore. It is concerning his brother, George."

Bobby's eyes lit up, worriedly, and I felt alarmed at the very notion. "The Head of Houses did not report him present when they were counting the students in the Gryffindor Common Room. Our working theory is that he abandoned his housemates to search for you once he found out that you were not present. But given that he is not with you…"

"Suhm-thing happened," said Bobby, developing a panicked stutter his face growing wide with horrifying realisation. "Suhm-thing bad."

"He could have just got lost," I suggested, trying to calm him down, but I knew that there would be no calming him down easy.

"George is in my year," pointed out Hermione. "He is friendly to me. I hope he's alright."

"We need to start a school-wide search immediately," said Professor McGonagall, glancing in the direction of Professor Snape, shooting him a dark look. "Every corner of the place, every room. The House Elves will come in useful too. We will not lose a student under my watch. Professor Quirrell will escort Mr. Hanbrough, Miss Renée and Mr. Kennedy back to their Common Room to see that nothing happens to them on their journey back, whilst I will escort Miss Granger, Miss Marshall and Mr. Whitmore to theirs. We cannot afford to lose touch of the whereabouts of any more students. It is a miracle that you are all in one place and unharmed."

"Yes, Professor," said Quirrell, ignoring our protests that we wanted to help.

"You have done enough damage for one night," said Severus Snape, delivering a sharp line of warning to all of us.

 **To Be Continued….**

And we meet Hermione in person here rather than just a cameo. She's going to be playing a supporting role in this fic going forward, but she probably be a main player as I want to keep the focus on the original characters. That said, she will probably feature the most out of the original trio for now although Harry and Ron won't be ignored entirely. Stuff is happening fairly similarly to canon at the moment but it won't stay that way for long. Ripples, waves, etc. The trio not being formed is going to be a big blow even with Robin's book knowledge. Professor Quirrell seems to suspect that Robin was looking at him for a bit longer than necessary, and these two will get a longer conversation in the next chapter. Renée doesn't have a surname yet but she will get one.

Of course, Georgie Whitmore was going to be the first victim of Pennywise. Georgie Denbrough, and all that.

This is a big chapter, in more ways than one.


	28. Dance with the Devil

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dance with the Devil**

 **I.**

One thing that I loathed to do was walk back to the Hufflepuff Common Room with Voldemort. It was an uneasy, silent journey that almost seemed like Quirrell was taking his time deliberately to stall us, as if he was internally arguing with Voldemort about what the plan was, how best to dispose of me in his mind. I wondered how much still remained of Quirrell, and I did my best to keep my eyes firmly planted anywhere but the back of that head.

"This sucks," said Elijah. "I'm tired of sitting here, doing nothing. Merlin knows what Bobby must be going through right now."

"He'll be fine," I did my best to reassure him. "He's probably just gotten lost and they'll find him tomorrow like nothing was wrong at all."

Professor Quirrell turned the corner first, and eventually we found ourselves back at the Hufflepuff Common Room. "And this is where I must… bid you farewell. Al-though, Mr. Ken-edy, I would appreci-ate it if you could… perhaps, stay a few minutes and speak… to me alone?"

 _Uh oh._ "I'm sorry, Professor. I need to get to bed."

"I hope you understand that it isn't optional," he said sternly, and I remembered that the stuttering was only an act, and this was the closest he'd come to outright confirming it. If there was any doubt about Voldemort not possessing Quirrell, who just happened to be repping the fashion of Turbans in the Wizarding World.

"Fine," I said, and then nodded to Elijah and Renée. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

"Yeah," said Elijah, and followed Renée into the common room, leaving me alone with The Dark Lord.

"You ought to be careful what you're looking at, boy," Quirrell said. "Some people might get the wrong idea."

"I'm not quite sure what you mean."

"And I would believe you," said Quirrell. "But for one thing. I haven't been stuttering since they went inside and you haven't reacted. No surprise. No questions. Nothing. Which must mean that you know that I am faking it. And that only begs the question… how?"

"I know that you hide someone else underneath that Turban," I decided to go with some of the truth, as I was already cornered. "But I do not know what for certain."

"But you have your suspicions."

"Yes, I do."

"You have remarkable insight for a twelve-year-old," said Quirrell. "And you are brave, too. To stand up to someone like me, when you know clearly that I am stronger than I appear. A pity, it seems almost a shame to what I'm going to have to do to you next. When you were so close to figuring it out. Tell me at least, before you die. I figured one more missing child on the same night couldn't hurt anyone, much, especially a mudblood like yourself. how did you know?"

There was no point in running. The House door had closed, preventing me access to the inside. And there was no chance of anyone coming out anytime soon with what was likely the school-wide curfew, and the knowledge that Professor Quirrell was likely still there outside waiting for them. "I'm not dying today," I said. "I feel like I should be obliged to let you know something."

"Like what?"

"I took precautions," I said, having been smart enough at least to plan for this moment. I wasn't sure how I was able to break the laws about not being able to tell anyone book knowledge, but it played to my favour. "You see, I've seen enough muggle movies to know when confronting someone who you think might not be who they say they are you leave their options open. If I don't go back into that common room, if I don't turn up to a lecture tomorrow, I have a series of papers written down. Instructions. To send to specific people that reveal your identity and of proof that explains how in a way that would lead to the parasite that inhabits it leaving the body for good and there's nothing you can do about it."

My delivery was so perfect that it made even Quirrell take stock in alarm, a surprised look filling his face. And possibly, Voldemort's too. "Then you are older than you appear, too," Quirrell said. "No Twelve-year-old boy would know these things."

"I don't know," I said, deciding to go in a bit cocky. "I've fought enemies far older and more terrifying than you'll ever be. You're a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, so you should know what happened to the spirit that inhabited The Overlook Hotel."

"That was defeated by Professor Torrance, last year. It is common knowledge among the staff."

"But what's perhaps not so common knowledge is that I was the one who did the heavy lifting," I said, perhaps exaggerating my involvement. I didn't actually expect to be able to take on Voldemort in a one-on-fight. Words were my best weapon right now, so I was going to use them. If the pen was stronger than the sword, then the mouth must be stronger than the wand. Or something like that. "Without my help, Professor Torrance would be dead and the school would be closed. So, you've got to think, Professor. You know how old that spirit is rumoured to be. You know how deadly it's meant to be too. If I were you, I'd be very scared."

"I don't know about that," Professor Quirrell said, deciding to suddenly straighten my school tie, out of nowhere, "We will have to call a raincheck on this discussion for now, it seems. But you should look smart, at least. It might get you somewhere in life. What's that old saying, dress for the job that you want? It's common even in the Wizarding World. People who tend to look as though they appear to know what they are talking about, at least from my experience tend to not have any idea at all."

He mercifully turned to leave. But the fact that he had not gone for his wand showed me that at least for now, Voldemort was merciful. The tie strengthening was an odd move, and I guessed it was more of a Quirrell action than a Voldemort one. I decided to add something further, another passing comment. I couldn't help it. It just slipped out. "Oh, I know. Trust me, Tom. I know exactly what you mean."

 **II.**

 _1971_

Paper boats was not an uncommon tradition at Hogwarts among the younger muggleborn students, so it came as no surprise to anyone when Martin Haust, a first year brought it up as a way to kill the time. Unfortunately, nobody had turned up to join him on one rainy Sunday afternoon. He'd used the sewers, and he was a sprinter, too, so he reckoned he could run down in one fell swoop. Maybe even two floors, with how long-winded the pipes were. He was lucky that the magical currents ran even uphill, allowing the pipes to structure wherever they wanted to.

"Hello?" a voice greeted him just after he put his boat through the gap. It was a weird voice, that sounded almost happy. "Who's there? Is anybody there?"

"I'm here," Martin said, cautiously. "Who's this? Are you okay?"

"I may have managed to get stuck in the sewers," said the voice. "A minor mishap, of course. But Mr…"

"Martin," said Martin. "Martin Haust."

"Mr. Martin Haust," said the voice. "I might need you help to get me out. Tell me boy, do you like Clowns?"

"I do, Sir. There's a Clown at our local village fair. He's very nice and friendly."

"Well, Martin Haust, good for him! He and I talk you know. He's very nice and friendly, you're right. You should always trust a Clown," said the voice.

"How do you know him?" Martin said.

"I'm a Clown myself, you see," said the Clown, making himself known throughout the shadows of the sewer gate. Martin could see his colourful features, there was no mistaking that. He was a Clown, all-right. "They call me Pennywise. Pennywise the Dancing Clown!"

"Why do they call you The Dancing Clown?"

"Because I dance, Martin. Because I Dance…" The Clown laughed, like the question was the funniest thing he'd heard in a long time. For all Martin knew, it could have been. It displayed its teeth, and Martin got a closer look at them, and for the first time, with growing horror, he saw that the weren't really human at all. He tried to turn, he tried to run faster than his legs could carry him, but something brought him off his feet viciously, and dragged him into the sewers.

Martin Haust was never seen alive again.

The following morning, Remus Lupin was the first to notice that his friend was missing when he didn't turn up for lunch at the time that Martin Haust _always_ turned up for lunch. He brought the matter to McGonagall immediately, and no less than ten minutes later, a search party was launched. But Martin Haust was not the first victim of Pennywise the Dancing Clown, and he would not be the last.

 **II.**

 _1991._

When I woke the following morning, the search was still in full flow, as evidenced by a confused House Elf popping into my room momentarily, scurrying around the room, searching under the bed and in the cupboard before teleporting out as though nothing had even happened. I quickly put on my school uniform and made it to breakfast, curious to see what was being said, mercifully thankful that Quirrell was active on the search himself. Hermione approached me just before that, and said, "I wanted to thank you for helping me last night. It was foolish of me to be alone like that…"

"Hey, it's fine," I said. "Besides, you did most of the heavy lifting. Hey, wait a second. Hermione. I don't suppose you know anything about a Clown that haunts Hogwarts? A lot of people have been saying that they've seen it."

Hermione stopped and paused for a second, as if running through an encyclopaedia in her mind, searching for the right answer. It was like watching someone do the brain thing that Benedict Cumberbatch's Sherlock Holmes does with his mind-palace, and eventually, she hit a ta-da moment. "I do, actually. I've been doing some research into it myself for Defence Against the Dark Arts, we had to study one mythical creature that calls Hogwarts its home. I covered all the basis naturally as I wanted to do something that none of the other students had covered to avoid repetition, so that meant I had to research all of them. And I came across the Clown in one of my findings."

We were walking and talking away from the breakfast table, and I got the feeling that Hermione was leading me to the library. A few seconds along the way, we were joined by two of Georgie's friends and Bobby. Georgie's friends were here, and I recognised them to be both Mal and Stevie. "Morning, Hermione, Robin," Bobby greeted us. "How are things?"

"Pretty good. How are you holding up?"

"Not well," Bobby said. "They still haven't found him yet. Mal and Stevie were the ones who reported he was missing. They're keen to help."

"Hey," Mal said. "Sorry about leaving you on the train. But we lost our friend. I don't want House divides to prevent me from looking for him. Where are you guys headed?"

"We were going to the library," Hermione said. "I was doing some research about The Clown…"

"I filled them in on the way here," said Bobby. "Apparently they've had Hauntings too."

"Mine was of an actual Clown," said Stevie, shuddering. "He was tall. Dark and scary, I've never seen any Clown like it before."

Mal was reluctant to say anything, so I didn't push it. "Alright," I said. "Hermione. You have an audience now."

Brianna and Elijah were waiting for us at the library, having gotten the jump on us. They were both tired, I could tell, and knew it was probably down to anxiety. We were all jumpy. None of us had much in the way of sleep. Bobby least of all, and the bags over his eyes were evident. She led the way into one of the private study rooms towards the back, which had some kind of magical projector, and there was a newspaper report dated _1971,_ which ran the headline, _**School Loses Four Students. Never Found.**_ And then, later, twenty-seven years prior, _**Six Students Lost! School Threatened with Closure.**_ Another twenty-seven years prior, history repeated itself. It was true to form.

"The same thing keeps happening every twenty-seven years," said Hermione. "This is only the twenty first year since the last reported abductions. According to history, we shouldn't have an abduction until the twenty seventh."

"So why are we getting it now?" Mal. "There's no anti-muggleborn message, this isn't anything to do with blood purity. What does The Clown want with them? Why has nobody found them?"

"Think of how big this castle is. Think of how many secret passageways there are," I said. "Dumbledore probably doesn't even know every room at Hogwarts. There must be billions of places out there. Hell. There could be a secret room above us right now, and we wouldn't even know it."

Hermione ignored my speculation and continued. "So, whilst the years aren't right, the patterns fit the profile of the Clown just perfectly. No abduction until Halloween, and then again at every holiday over the school calendar. Halloween, Christmas, Easter… although there's a blank on this spot here. November the fourth. Logic would indicate that it is America's Thanksgiving, but then…"

"We're not in America," I said, and decided to test what knowledge I could get across from _IT_. "What about sightings in America? Maybe it started out there before coming over here?"

"I considered that," Hermione said, and presented us with her next slide, which showed a newspaper article from the eighteen hundreds of a small town in Maine, which had an old-timey artwork of a group of men, likely the founding fathers of the city, and something in the distance, just behind the men themselves. Something almost Clownlike. "A small town of Derry, in the state of Maine. It took me a lot of researching to find this out, I'm amazed that Hogwarts even has copies. My hunch is that somebody studying the case the last time it happened looked into it and just forgot about them. Look. There's a stamp on them that points to the Derry Library."

"A muggle town?" Stevie asked.

"Yes. Little to no magical elements, which makes it strange. If The Clown was magical, American Aurors would have detected it," said Hermione. "And here. The whole town was burned in a fire a few years after this newspaper was published. It was rebuilt, but that was the last sighting of a clown. And get this."

"What?"

"Grindelwald was there," said Hermione. "In Maine, there are reported engagements with him, but it never says who fought him."

"You think Grindelwald knew about The Clown?" Elijah was surprised.

"Who's Grindelwald?" asked Bobby, confused.

"You don't know- oh yes, I forgot, you're not a pureblood," Elijah said. "Grindelwald was the most famous Dark Wizard to have lived, until You-Know-Who showed up. There, look. There's a bit in the Prophet about him visiting Maine to try and gain followers. Maybe he took the Clown with him."

"I don't think it matters how much how The Clown got here," I said. "What matters more is a way to stop it. Ideally before November the Fourth."

"Well that's what I've been struggling with. It hasn't been stopped," said Hermione. "Not once, not ever. There are no records of someone even touching it, let alone stopping it. And what's more the details are sometimes hazy. People seem to forget about it, which is hard to believe. How could you forget something like that?"

"Maybe that's one of its powers," said Brianna. "Making people forget."

"I was wondering why Hogwarts can have so many abductions over the course of its opening and there was never any talk of closer, in comparison to that one time when the Chamber of Secrets was allegedly opened," said Hermione. "And that was only one confirmed death. If all of these abductions over the course of the many years since the school's creation have been the result of one thing, and that one thing is powerful enough to make Dumbledore forget…"

" _Then you should be very afraid,_ " said a voice, which did not sound like any of us in the room at all, even if we were to put on an accent. I caught it first, glancing around, shocked. Once everyone realised that it had not come from us, we began to search around for where the noise had come from.

"There!" Mal pointed out, in the direction of the board. "It's coming from the board."

"Shut it down," Stevie said. But there was no stopping it. Hermione tried all the spells she knew but the slides kept flicking past, one-by-one. At first the images of The Clown were subtle, restricted to background appearances, but it felt like it was gaining a larger presence entirely as the presentation continued. And what was going to happen next was evident in the way that it launched out of the presentation, causing us to leap back in shock as it laughed. We saw The Clown for the first time in the flesh, all of us, apart from Stevie, who was the first person to see it for what it truly was, and we were all terrified.

It was Stevie who finally ran to the door, and opened it. We spiralled out into the library, fighting to escape The Clown. Brianna was the last one out, and it grabbed onto her in a vain attempt to pull her back in. We collectively used our strength to wrestle her away from The Clown, fighting against evil itself. And eventually, we were able to pull her free, crashing into a bookshelf behind us, not caring if we got scolded and given detention by Madam Pince afterwards.

"I am ne-vur going back in that room again!" Bobby couldn't help but stutter again, and I wondered if anything had happened to him in the troll incident, or if someone had hexed him to give him a permanent stutter. "That thing is e-vhil, Robin! E-vhil!"

There was no arguing his comment. Everyone agreed with him.


	29. Deal with the Devil

**The Fire Waltz Chapter Twenty-Nine: Deal with the Devil**

 **I.**

The next lesson that I had with Professor Quirrell was the most awkward thing in the world. It was kind of like accidentally saying you hate someone who considers them your friend while they are still in earshot and then only realising it afterwards that you would have to spend the next several months with them in a lecture. Professor Quirrell paced up and down the room, clearly looking agitated. Was he having an internal debate with Voldemort in his consciousness? How did two heads even work? We had it with the Gryffindors, so I was sat at the back of the class with Brianna. "What did you do to piss him off?" Brianna said. "I've seen him glare at you three times today, which is three times more than normal. I wasn't even aware he knew you existed."

"I don't know," I lied, although as I did, I began to formulate ideas how I could possibly get Quirrell to expose himself whilst in the room of Professor Dumbledore in a way that didn't reveal that I knew something about the future. I would run up and pull off his headgear in the middle of a dinner, but chances were, Quirrell wouldn't be there at all. He rarely showed after Halloween and on the rare occasions that he was there, he always made sure to position himself in such a way so that if I ran up there was no way another Professor wouldn't stop me first to provide his cover. And I never, ever ran into him in the classroom. We had reached a stalemate. "Probably didn't do my homework or something."

"And now," Professor Quirrell said to the class. "We are going to look at the… Raythborn. A p, p, peculiar creature, it is believed that they look older than they actually app-pear. Tell me class, hoow old do you think this creature actually looks?"

"I'd say no more than five, sir," said a Gryffindor towards the front of the class.

"In-correct," said Professor Quirrell. "This Raythborn is over two hun-dred years old. Imm-aculate. It has lived on the planet long before I was born… and it will be, be there long after I die. This week's assignment is a si-simple one. We are to look at the tell-tale signs that a Raythborn is pre-tending to be younger than its years, which is common amongst their species."

Shit. _Voldemort_ had figured it out. He'd worked out that I was older than I appeared, and now he was using the Raythborn as an example to do… what exactly? Such a thing was impossible among humans, even in the Harry Potter world. (Unless, were vampires real here?) But regardless, I'd played my hand, too fast, too hard and too early. I think I covered my tracks fairly well, and the similarities between Rayhtborns and humans were relatively slim, but I would have to be extra careful from now on. Thankfully there were no Hermione Grangers in my year, and due to Quirrell's teaching style, a number of students including Brianna were on the verge of dozing off completely.

The lesson was surprisingly anticlimactic considering our conversation the previous day. Riddle had a secret to maintain too, and he couldn't risk his plans being uncovered. It wasn't until the end of the class where he pulled me aside and asked me to stay behind for a few moments. "Remember class, keep putting your signatures on you your assign-ments. That goes for every one of.. you. Now, Mr. Kennedy… A word."

"Good luck," said Brianna, "I'll see you in Potions at four. Have fun."

Professor Quirrell made sure that all the class had gone before shutting and locking the door. "Now, Mr. Kennedy. You are the most peculiar question indeed. Normally, I would say Polyjuice, but you have sat in this class for a whole hour and not taken one swig from anything. And Dumbledore I believe, has measures against such a spell."

That was news to me. Maybe by The Triwizard, Crouch JR had found a way to counteract them? Or Dumbledore had simply told everyone that there were anti-Polyjuice detections in place when there weren't actually any at all. "So, it has come to my conclusion that you are impossible. By all rights, you shouldn't exist. A time-traveller from the future, perhaps? Beyond more than a few hours, such a feat is impossible. You would not have found out about who I was in the next few hours, so time travel is ruled out too. And Seers do not exist, as far as I'm concerned."

"Well as soon as you find out the answer, be sure to tell me, cause I'm still trying to figure out myself how I ended up here," I said, coming to the conclusion that there was no chance of holding back. Riddle already knew as much as he was going to. "But I suppose the real question is, what do you want with me? Why am I here?"

"I want you to do something for me."

"What's that?" It was only once I asked the question, I realised how stupid I was for even entertaining the mere idea that I could be swayed by Voldemort. "And more importantly, why should I?"

"Because if you don't," Riddle said, and I realised that this was actually _Riddle_ 's voice speaking, not Quirrell's. The front of his face was motionless, but his words spoke louder. "Things are going to get very difficult for you. I may not be able to harm you personally without your fail safe being activated, but trust me, I can find loopholes."

"What's to stop me from going straight to Professor Dumbledore?"

"I don't think that will be possible once you hear what I have to say," Riddle said. "But quite simply, the fact of the matter is, I assume given that you know who I am, you also know why I am here?"

"To steal the Philosopher's Stone," I said.

"Then you know that I cannot reach it without some sort of suspicion, especially after that incident on Halloween where I was caught near the beast," Riddle said. "However, a twelve-year-old boy? They will not suspect anything. You could ask Dumbledore for the Stone itself and if you told him you were going to save the world with it for the Greater Good, he'd give it to you on a silver platter."

"I'm sorry, but I'm out. I'm not going anywhere near the Stone, and especially not for you."

"You know," Quirrell was speaking again. "You gave me an idea after our previous encounter. "You told me that you'd written letters to be delivered to Dumbledore that have some kind of contingency. Well, I decided to do the same. Thanks to the signature that you wrote on your homework, like I requested, I was able to accurately forge it to the point where it would be undetectable by even the most veteran of curse-breakers. Now let's see. Here."

He produced a piece of paper from a desk and read it in front of me. "To the Dark Lord. I am going to steal the Stone tonight. Everything is in place for my extraction. I will meet you afterwards at the Astronomy Tower. Signed… Robin Kennedy."

I tried to snatch it out of his hands rather foolishly, but he merely waved it higher and laughed. "You're going to have to do better than that. But Lord Voldemort is merciful," The Dark Lord in question spoke. It was never going to be any less than weird, seeing words coming out of Quirrell's head but Quirrell wasn't the one saying them. "I will give you a deadline. Until The end of the year."

"What about truth potion?" I said, asking Voldemort, who didn't need to say what would happen if I didn't do it before the end of the year. "If I'm caught, surely, I can just testify under Veritaseum that you manipulated me?"

"Oh Mr. Kennedy, you are mistaken if you think they will bother with such a complex potion for you. To them you are worthless," he said. "They didn't question Sirius Black, so what makes you think they'll question you? They will be glad to be rid of the boy who dared to introduce muggle tradition to Hogwarts and tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone. The newspapers are already crying for your blood, saying that you are poisoning children's beliefs and breaking down our proud culture."

 **II.**

Brianna Marshall had planned to wait outside for Robin to come out of the classroom. She found the boy rather odd, truth be told, too charismatic for a Hufflepuff but too caring about other people to be a Gryffindor – her House could get awfully selfish at times, if she was honest. The Troll incident had still left her cautiously looking around the corridors so that when the next attack came, she was not surprised in the slightest. Unlike the others, unlike poor Bobby, Mal, Stevie, Eli and Robin when they were first attacked, Brianna knew enough about The Clown to turn and run the moment that she saw her father in the distance. There was no way her father could be at Hogwarts after all.

Yet the moment she turned the corner, it was almost as if The Clown had apparated (and apparition was impossible inside Hogwarts grounds unless you were a House Elf, and The Clown was very much _not_ a House Elf) in front of her. Her father was carrying a wooden bat, the same that he used to keep around the house just in case his wand was disarmed, and it had spikes attached to the end of it. Brianna had been on the receiving end of the bat before the spikes were implemented, and she had no desire to be on the receiving end of it ever again. "You should be at home, Brianna," her father said. "It's lonely without you."

" _Expelliarmus_!" Brianna shouted at The Clown, telling herself over and over again that this was _not_ a him, it wasn't him, but that dread was there, the smell was there, that same vile smell of alcohol. For all intents and purposes, he was a pureblood who made an exception in only one case, the alcohol. Wizards didn't know how strong muggle beer was, he always used to say. It was one of the reasons why he was an outcast from the community, and why any chance of Brianna going somewhere in life was shattered before she even stepped foot in Hogwarts because of her reputation. She tried again to cast a spell, more out of anger than anything. " _Diffindo_!"

There was no effect. The Clown had chased her down the corridor and away from the room, so she tried to angle her way back by running up another level of stairs and proceeding in the opposite direction. The Clown followed, and she realised that by now she was _very_ late to Charms, and not for the last time she cursed Robin and the rest of the Hufflepuffs for having a free period on a morning that she did not. But McGonagall – and most likely detention, could wait. Survival was more important.

She reached the end of the stairwell at the opposite end of the corridor but to her horror, the stairs hadn't come back towards her level yet. She was a sitting duck, and her father – The Clown – was advancing towards her. There was no escape. She frantically tried, even tried clawing at the locked door nearby the stairs, but to no avail. " _Diffindo_!" Brianna shouted, loudly at The Clown, once again, using the spells that she knew how to perform. But nothing was coming out of the wand, it was like it had the power to cancel magic entirely.

She almost felt like jumping, even though it was so high up that she would die. But it was either jump, or get… eaten? The horrifying teeth of The Clown seemed to suggest that would be the case. She was seriously contemplating the jump – just about to do so, almost, before the door that she was trying to open before unlocked and The Clown vanished from view.

"Renée!" she said, relieved, running to embrace her in a hug. But the girl backed away.

"Sorry," she said, and Brianna noticed that she hadn't been wearing any gloves, like normal. "But I don't do hugs."

"You sure?" Brianna said. "I feel like I could use one after that."

"The Clown, huh?" Renée said. "You saw it too."

"Yeah."

"I haven't yet," she said. "But I'm expecting a haunting anyday now."

Brianna wondered where she had found out about The Clown, and who had told her. "I got some wonderful news, this morning."

"Is that why you weren't in today's Defence lesson?" Brianna asked her.

"Something like that," she said, and Brianna noticed that she seemed almost happy. She had rarely seen the other girl happy. "Don't worry, I confirmed beforehand when I got the letter. It's a lot to take in while having to worry about without having to concentrate on Defence as well."

"Hold up, what letter?" Brianna said.

"My parents found me!" she couldn't contain the excitement anymore. "My parents wrote to me this morning. It's amazing, Brianna. They were looking for me forever, and now they've finally found out where I am!"

"Wow," said Brianna. "That's fantastic, Renée. I'm so happy for you."

All fear of the Clown was gone from Brianna's mind, passed like a distant memory. She had never talked to the girl that much, if she was being honest, but felt relieved to see that she had something to be happy about. Her captivity was never officially confirmed but the rumours had spread around Hogwarts like a wildfire. And there were signs too, of a less-than happy childhood. For someone like Brianna, it was easy to spot them a mile off.

"I should probably get going," Renée said, breaking the moment of understanding that the two girls shared. "Sorry. I wouldn't want to keep you. You're late for a lesson, right?"

"Oh shit," Brianna said, remembering that McGonagall was _so going to kill her._ "You're right. See you around."

"And you," said Renée, waving at her, clutching the paper that she held in her hands like it meant the world to her.

 **To Be Continued…**

 **A/N:** Apologies for the late chapter; life/work got in the way, and hopefully the next update won't take as long.

Back on track. I have the next few chapters already written so they'll be published fairly quickly (up to 34 or so) and then after that, we'll see how things go from there.


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